If you have known me for any length of time, you know I plan to write a book. Depending on the day, the topic of said book varies to the point that someday I may actually need to write a number of books. Today is certainly a chapter for “Funny Crap Happens to Me!”
Torrential rain began on my way home from delivering an item I sold online to a woman who did not turn out to be an axe murderer. Dusk had fallen. Visibility was a challenge. I drove patiently, unlike some of the crazys on the interstate. After days of gorgeous weather most of us had forgotten things like “slippery when wet” and “vehicle not meant to perform triple-axel”.
My eyes, my mind, and my mind’s eye were tired when the interstate finally ended and I turned left onto the friendly highway-of-a-million-lights that would take me home. I needed a warm drink to get me through the drive. Don’t kid yourself into thinking there might be a coffee shop on this road. Not that kinda town. I pulled into the gas station/donut shop hoping for a cup of steamy hot chocolate. Knowing a large styrofoam cup of cocoa would cost 89 cents, I slipped a dollar bill into my back pocket and went inside. As I carried my self-serve cup to the counter, it happened. The conversation that turned my day from “I should blog about being that girl who goes to deliver an internet sale to an unknown woman in an unfamiliar neighborhood at night” to “I have never blushed so completely in a gas station in my life”.
There were two exceedingly friendly Kentucky-type ladies on duty behind the counter. They were both having a nice, if slightly loud, conversation with the gentleman who walked up to the counter in front of me. This conversation continued as I walked up to hand over my dollar bill.
“Hi, how are ya?” the cashier lady asked me.
“I’m doing well, thank you” I replied, friendly as ever.
“Rain is kinda bad out there” she mentioned.
“Yes! And it is cold!” I continued “I am hoping this hot chocolate can help with that”.
Then the man looked at me, smiled, and joined in “If you won’t bite, I will help with that…”
The depth of the shades of red on my cheeks could only be described by an artist’s palette. I was shocked. I practically ran to my car, laughing.
Now as I sit here on my couch finishing off a rather delicious cup of hot chocolate, I sincerely regret not informing the man that I do, in fact, bite.