Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Not a taco.

Last night some friends asked if I wanted to go out to eat. 

I haven't felt good recently. I've had bronchitis for about a month, which has left me a sneezy and coughy mess. 

I've felt good enough the past week to do stuff, though. I went shopping out of town (sorry, shop local people). So I decided that yes, I absolutely wanted to eat at a restaurant last night.

I've had cravings for a local Mexican place. I didn't feel like a hamburger and fries, so I pitched that idea to my friends. They were game.

The thing is, I really wanted a taco. Three tacos, to be exact. But my mind was on other things, and apparently I can't think and talk at the same time.

They say you're supposed to marry the person who gives you the same feeling you get when you see your food coming at a restaurant. Guys, I've never been so disappointed in my life last night when I saw my plate of food.

The very nice waitress sat my plate down in front of me and walked away. I looked at it for a minute, then asked my friends a question.

"Do these look like tacos to you?"

The response was something like, "Um, I heard you say enchiladas. You didn't order tacos."

But I pointed my finger at tacos on the menu! Don't get me wrong, the enchiladas are fine, but I just had my heart set on a taco.

This is one of the only times I've eaten out in the past month, because I've been coughing and hacking so much. 

I wanted tacos!

Sigh. 

Taco night will be another night, I guess. 

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