My stuff has still not arrived. Ergo, we are kind of living like hobos. It's made for an interesting few days.
Cut to this morning when I had this conversation with my mother:
Me: Man. I want a piece of that babka but we don't have any knives to cut it.
Mom: We do! We have a plastic knife! It's on the table.
Me: ....you used that to scratch your back the other night.
Mom: We could wash it.
In short, we ate babka with our hands and did not use the knife. At this point, even the Beverly Hillbillies judge us.