Drive out of the parking lot with it still on the roof of your car.
Remember to grab it from the roof of your car, but leave it with your dogs while you run into Bottle & Basket to get a nice Aglianico.
Take it into Bottle & Basket with you so your dogs don’t eat it, but then accidently leave it atop a cracker display.
Serve it with Fritos because you forgot to buy crackers in your rush to get back to your car.
Bring it to the neighbor’s barbeque where it is mistaken for dip (since you brought Fritos alongside) and promptly devoured.
Take something else to the neighbor’s, so you can enjoy it at an outdoor performance of Beatlemania, where it’s confiscated upon a requisite bag search. (No outside food or drinks.)
Remembering the amphitheater’s policy, leave it home for Beatlemania, but watch in horror as your husband scoops it into deviled eggs the next day.
Eat it after your husband falls asleep while watching the pilot episode of Mercy Street on PBS, after which you permanently associate olive-blueberry tapenade with amputated limbs and never want it again.
Hide it when your husband joins you watching TV so you don’t have to share—even if that means you don’t get to eat it yourself.
Find it two years later in the back of your fridge.
Born and raised in Detroit, Michelle Riddell now lives with her family in rural mid-Michigan where she happily braves her husband’s penchant for DIY projects and her daughter’s passion for wildlife-as-indoor-pets. Her publishing credits include Sammiches and Psych Meds, Mamalode, The Good Mother Project, and Club Mid. In addition to being a reviewing editor at Mothers Always Write, Michelle is a substitute teacher at her daughter’s elementary school where she tries very hard not to embarrass her. Find her on Twitter @MLRiddell.