The mani-pedi-waffle-debacle

I have to admit–I’m a little unfocused. I get this way before every convention, especially when there’s swag and traveling involved.  Planning an itinerary, stuff to ship, a schedule–my brain becomes the mother of all train wrecks, and I’ve done it enough times on the blog for you guys to know it’s for real.

But I’m not the only one who has the mental train wreck.

Chicken has them occasionally too.

So the following is the great mani-pedi-waffle debacle of the spring of 2018:

We are driving to the mani-pedi place for a drop in–they’re often busy, so we figure we have enough time to make an appointment for later if they can’t take us now.

On the way there:

Chicken: Oh crap. I was going to do my laundry!

Me: You can do it when we’re done here.

Chicken: But I left it at my apartment.

Me: Okay–I’ll swing by and you can get it on the way home.

Chicken: Deal.

The place could take us in an hour and a half. Great! Time to get her laundry, bring it back to my house, start it, and then go get nails done. We were PRODUCTIVE!

Halfway to the apartment Chicken goes, “Oh shit.”

Me: What?

Chicken: I left my keys at your house!

Me: …

Chicken: I’m so sorry.

Me: …

Chicken: What should we do now?

Me: …

See–trainwreck. I was without plan. I was without words even. After almost going straight when I should have turned left to get to her apartment, I shoved myself into the left hand turn lane and tried hard to think.

Chicken: Where are we going?

Me: We’re gonna get a waffle.

Chicken: …. ?

Me: The waffle place. Volkswaffle. It’s right here. I’ll get us some waffles. We can plan.

Chicken:  Yeah. Sure.

The guys at Volkswaffle loves to talk but he’s really the most boring man on the planet. I mean, I LOVE him– he’s sweet, he loves his job, loves his business, and that’s really awesome but he was talking and my brain slowly began to turn wheels.  By the time we had our waffles (A cinnamon purist, no whipped cream, thank you) I knew where I was going.

Chicken: OKay– that’s good. I can deal with that. That’s a plan.

Me: So, uh, does this mean anything is possible with waffles?

Chicken: Sure. We’ll roll with that. As long as I get my toes done, it’s all good with waffles.

We got our mani-pedis, so now I can get on the airplane with the confidence of having cute toes, and Chicken looks spiffy too–but neither of us can focus for shit.

I’m hoping it’ll be better when I get home–but she’s in charge of the kids for a full day before that, so here’s hoping we both recover, yeah?

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