I went to the grocery store the other day out of sheer desperation. I was down to half a loaf of bread and half a jar of peanut butter.
I’m condensing a text message marathon with Leslie because I’m way too lazy to type it all out. (Also, you should know that when she gets early onset Alzheimer’s, she plans on selling everything she owns and moving to an island).
I decided I wanted a BLT for dinner, but I was out of bacon. When I got to the bacon section, a woman was standing there blocking my way. A cute woman, so I didn’t mind standing there while she inspected the package. Finally she turned to me and apologized and said she had forgotten her glasses and wanted to know how many pieces were in the package. So I took my glasses off (sheesh) so I could read it.
Serving size: 2 pieces
Servings per package: about 6
I looked at that information, handed it back to her and said, “Eight.” Then I picked up my bacon and walked away.
I was halfway home before I smacked myself in the forehead and yelled, “TWELVE!”
Me: And I forgot dessert! I’M SO STUPID!
Leslie: No dessert? I honestly don’t know how I put up with you!
Me: Because you pity me. And you should pity me. I’m a mess. A dessert-less mess.
Me: I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything in advance. I really can’t help it.
Leslie: I know. You’re forgiven.
Me: I’m going to beat you to that island.
Leslie: We’re going there together, asshole.
Me: Not if I can’t remember the difference between multiplication and addition!
Leslie: You’re the word girl. I’ve got the numbers covered.
A few days after that, I sent this text:
Leslie: Ahhh! Damn it, quit waking me up!
Me: Sorry, was trying to make your heart stent spasm. 🙂
Because that’s the kind of friend I am.
There’s another post coming along somewhere behind this one, but it isn’t writing itself. And it has nothing to do with math, texting or bacon but on coming out and being out and what all of that means in the real world. Or something like that.