Man, when Sarah-bear and I go out to lunch, interesting things frequently happen. Like the infamous Slurpee incident from earlier this week. (BTW: Sarah-bear, you tattle-tale! “Hey, my name is Faith, and I’m a Slurpeeholic.” I was trying to be at least a little discrete there, but you outed me!)
Anyway, today was Wednesday. When the planets align themselves just so, Wednesday lunch consists of splitting the cheese enchilada special at El Fenix and then stopping at 7-11 for Slurpees before returning to the office, where we spend the rest of the day in a soporific haze brought on by excessive carbs.
And Sarah-bear was driving today because there’s a short in the button that turns on the A/C in my car, and it’s been making me extremely cranky. As we’re driving down the road next to the restaurant after lunch on our way to 7-11, aka Slurpee Heaven, all of a sudden Sarah’s frantically turning the steering wheel and braking and screaming, and I’m screaming, and there’s a big-ass truck or SUV or something slamming on its brakes–the driver was in such a hurry to exit her restaurant that she didn’t bother to look and see whether anyone was already on the road. Man, I was 6 inches from getting crunched. I mean seriously crunched. I’d have broken my promise to Emmy to be home straight after work today. I’d have been in the hospital. Sarah thoroughly cussed out the driver of the other vehicle, and calmly proceeded to 7-11.
It took a few minutes, but we finally started breathing normally again, and I realized how close I’d come to getting crunched, and Sarah-bear, it’s okay that you outed me as a Slurpee addict, because you saved my life. Thank you.
And, uh, we’re eating lunch at Cafe Yum tomorrow, because I am not risking another lunch away from the office this week. Except for Friday, because I get to leave early and won’t be here for lunch anyway.