Remember: everything Your panda wife says is made up.

It was winter, high up in Chicago. Aka, cold as all fucking balls. The air conditioning at work broke, and you had to work late, and you had to bundle up to get anything done, AND traffic was high from the snow. But finally... finally, you were home. As you stood infront of your door, shaking off the snow from your boots and shoulders, you smiled, smelling the warm spicy sweetness of food cooking from your bombshell of a wife, mao.