Yesterday, it was three o’clock before I finally landed at a restaurant for lunch, which indicates the kind of day I had had. After ordering the soup and salad combination, I collapsed against the back of the booth, munching on the chips and salsa while Younger managed the conversation pretty much on his own.
And I guess that when the soup and salad arrived, I didn’t plow through it as quickly as expected. At least I didn’t fall asleep in it. But when the waitress offered to warm my soup for me, I allowed her to take my bowl.
I finished my salad. And Younger’s corn on the cob.
Finally, I caught the waitress’s eye. “My soup,” I reminded her, earning a blank look that skimmed first me then our table. But she turned back into the kitchen and returned with a bowl of soup.
Then after I had taken two bites, she suddenly made an urgent dash back to my table, looking rather harried. “I just started thinking––I realized-––I couldn’t remember if I’d brought you your soup,” she murmured. Both of us looked at the bowl centered before me, a bowl she had delivered less than sixty seconds earlier. “But I guess I did?”
“You did,” I assured her, keeping my face straight.
Still clearly confused, she nodded then wandered away.
I guess I wasn’t the only one having a long day. I’m pretty sure I didn’t misplace anyone’s lunch, mostly because I didn’t have to deliver any, and I managed to reach home with both the boys in tow, mostly because they’re old enough to keep up now. But that was about all I could actually attest to.
Some days, the only goal is survival.
We can always storm the castle tomorrow.