I’m afraid I’m going to have to right this. That’s not exactly what happened. I’ve been having sleepless nights thinking about the inconsistencies in the recounting of this momentous occasion of the mundane. Conspiracy theorists, read on.
The TRUE story of Anne’s brother’s pans-
Contrary to previous ‘assumptions’, Both Anne and I were sober.
Anne: “My brothers got some great pans”
George: “Oh yeah?”
…George: “What’s so great about them? Are they new?”
Anne: “No, just good pans. They make good scrambled eggs”
George: “I see.”