Diary of a SubUrban Housewife

Teary-Eyed

I've been a bit "weepy" these last few days. The high point (or perhaps low point?) had to be last night.

About 9:00 last night I wanted Quizno's for dinner. I wasn't sure they would still be open. I figured they'd either close at 9 or at 10.

Seconds after I decided this was what I wanted and was getting ready to go out and get it, Chuck told me he was going to the store to get some contact lens solution. I offered to get it for him as I needed to pick up a prescription and wanted Quizno's.

I go to Rite Aid first, get his eye stuff and my Rx. I then drive over to Quizno's. I get there at 9:20. I'm pleased to see their little neon sign in the window says OPEN. I get to the door. It's locked. I know I saw someone behind the counter as I approached, but looked around inside and didn't see a single soul.

I got back in my car, committed myself to a life-long boycott of Quizno's, and started crying.

I started to drive home, having a real pity party on the way. I was hungry, and tired, and cranky and had nothing to eat.

So I decided on some comfort food. McDonalds. Some hot, salty french fries would do the trick.

I backtrack and make my way to McD's. I get my order and start driving home. The tears had finally subsided.

I reach in the bag. I'll have one fry just to whet my appetite.

The french fries are ice fucking cold.

I think about turning around and going back there but don't even have the energy for that. So I start crying again.

I cried all the way home.

I pull in the driveway and give myself the big slapdown. It's just some cold fries. Certainly nothing to cry about. I walk in the door. I start crying. Again. Chuck comes running out, vaguely frantic thinking I accidentally ran over one of the cats while pulling into the driveway.

I sob, "My fries are cold."

I know he thinks I've completely gone off the deep end here.

And because this is all not bad enough, I'm recounting the story of the cold fries to my girlfriends at lunch today, laughing at myself for my own ridiculouness, and at the same time my eyes are welling up with tears again over the cold fries.

Have a hormone.

Posted by beth at March 18, 2004 01:29 PM