Shortly after arriving home from work Friday night, Kate somewhat hesitantly informs me she's got to go out of town for work. Leaving Saturday. For a week. F**k me.
I immediately start
This is easy. Of course, Kate's still here. We venture off to our town's parade and begin Food Fest 2010 with our first meal of the weekend - A Hot Dog and a Coke. Later, we take Kate to the airport and head straight for dinner [Editor's Note: I left at 2:30 in the afternoon. Just sayin'. - Kate] Three words: Chick. Fil. A. Did anyone guess? We have a winner! What is it she calls them? [Editor's Note: T-box, baby. - Kate] Right. Open one of those. You're going to be hearing those three words a lot. Let's make it a game.
Dinner: BBQ. Of course. Because it's American.
Holiday. Cook-out at a friends. Hot Dogs, sodas, and BBQ. We possibly both may not have felt fantastic that night. Maybe.
Thank god. Chick. Fil. A. (really, are you drunk yet, because this is ridiculous) is open for breakfast. I think Happy must be thrilled to see his nanny. She fixes food. From the refrigerator. She looks at us, and the house and possibly the trash, and shuffles me out the door. I'm pretty sure Happy only ate vegetables for lunch, and was probably really happy about it.
I think we had hot dogs for dinner. Or maybe just ice cream. Either way, it's not good.
The children and I are playing downstairs. It's late, but she's due home any minute. We all think it's best to just wait. I started to suggest dinner, and Lefty and McGee just held up their hands, stopping me mid-sentence. They know.
Door opens. Slams. We all gasped. High heels clicking on the floor.
Mad rush up the stairs. They clung to her like she was holding the Heisman or something.
"Mom, we're hungry." She suggested pizza. They were thrilled. I think it's because it wasn't Chick Fil A. (drink)
I'm planning on going back this Saturday. It's part of our weekend routine. There's a chance I might be going by myself.
There's also a chance we might take a week off. Maybe.
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