It is snowing, sleeting, raining, and thundering. Hello Spring!
Can’t wait to put all my broken flower pots, rusty tools, and my favorite wheel barrel into my new shed. I was pretty nervous before the shed was delivered. I get very anxious when I spend money. When I put my signature on the sales receipt I almost passed out. But I’m happy now. The shed was installed before the perennials broke ground. Now that the shed is here to stay I can design a nice surrounding garden. I sure do hope that those six visits to the gym paid off.
Today I had an impromptu lunch with Carol. I probably shouldn’t write about this but, hey, what the hell, it’s my life and I can write what I want. She picked me up in her car. Carol doesn’t like her car. She’s been complaining about it for years and she is handing it in tonight for a VW. I give her a month of love between her and the car. But that’s not what I shouldn’t be writing about.
We drove to the International Cafe in Bellmore, our usual lunch place. I sometimes order the chopped salad but I haven’t been happy with it the last few times — so, while Carol stepped away to wash her hands, I decided on a BLT on rye. She comes back, sits down and says, “Should we order the usual?” The usual is a large Belgian waffle with strawberries and whipped cream. I looked at her and must have given her a pained look because she then said, “Oh, are we getting an omelette and salad?” I was speechless. I was weak. I fell apart and said, “Absolutely, waffles. Let’s just keep it a secret,” I blurted.
We ate, we babbled, we ate some more. We talked about books we read — no details — apparently neither of us are good with details. We both said lame stuff to the waitress and left her a good tip.
One more time: Let’s keep this whole waffle thing a secret. If no one knows, then no weight is gained.