Whoa Mama

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

I'm What?!

So Scott has been working a freakish number of hours. I'm talking like he went two days only seeing the boys when we brought him coffee in the morning before taking Sam to school. Yesterday this early a.m. outing came off without a hitch. I'm on fire. "We're going again today", I wake up thinking.

Clean underpants and socks on all boys, waffles sticks (made from homemade waffles previously frozen), bananas, juice boxes and even a healthy to-go breakfast for me. We're off!

The first hiccup comes when I pull into the Dunkin Donuts and realize that I've taken my wallet out of my purse and not replaced it. Damn. Home again. Because I live in the sticks this is not like flying down Delaware Ave, but because I live in the sticks I can run in and grab the wallet without unloading everyone like a clown car. I decided to go to the much closer Dunkin Donuts that does not have a drive-thru. Yea, I know, inherently flawed plan.

We pull in. I get Noah out and the line is out the door. Everybody back in. Back to the further Dunkin with the blessed drive-thru.

Time is ticking away and Scott has a meeting and Sam has to go to school. Grrr.

All looks good when I pull in, place my order, get the coffee and the bag and happily pull away. Only to realize I have not gotten the breakfast sandwich, just the pacifying donut holes. Around the huge complex I go *again*, only to find myself at the back of a line of 4 cars waiting to order and no one at the window getting their order....



I pull out of line, zipped up to the window, expecting them to laugh and hand me the sandwich so I can be on my way! 2 more seconds and some embarrassment and off! The guy remembers me, laughs and calls his co-worker "simple" for taking so long to nuke an egg and we wait. And we wait. And we wait. One by one, the employees start turning to me and staring. I say, "yes, I forgot my sandwich." Little do I know I was fueling a riot. One of the minimum wage hillpeople says, "you just cut in front of a line of people, to which I defend myself with, "I was just coming back to pick up the sandwich." The nice kid who is waiting on me says, "that's ghetto! It's something I would do, but that is ghetto".

I don't even know what that means, but I don't think it was a compliment.


At 8:46 AM , Blogger Scott said...

Mystic, Connecticut - very, very ghetto. Just ask the pastey-faced, whitebread, counter help.

At 9:55 PM , Blogger Julie said...

Thanks for the head's up. We will make sure our "peeps" are on the down-low when we head to Mystic this summer. Wouldn't want any one "all up in our grill." Hee Hee!


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