You get the idea.
I volunteer for the milk, butter and cheese. Again. And again. And again. No one has complained, but I feel a bit like a broken record. I said to my husband that I felt bad that I kept bringing the same thing. I told him I didn't want it to seem like I was taking the easy way out.
He just looked at me, smiled and shook his head. "Clearly your offerings aren't the easy way out. You milked the cow to make all that stuff for crying out loud. How is that the easy way out?"
Which is good, as come Thursday, I was planning on bringing milk to go along with cookies anyhow.