She Who Laughs, Comes In Last

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This husband of mine…

Has an issue with reading the fine print-as in, he doesn’t do it…instructions…recipes…menus…ESPECIALLY menus…

Orders something, the plate is served, and confusion sets in…phrases like “I didn’t order this.” “Did I order this?” “Is this what I ordered?” are quietly uttered…

The Maid-Rite Monster Mash…the weird sauce covered omelet…the smoked sausage instead of sausage links…his dining partner commiserates, but inside chuckles a bit, because Smarty Pants me knows, when it comes to fine print…nothing gets by her…until…

The week of the One Lasts…the one last time doing our favorite Texas things…one last trip to San Marcos to our new favorite thrift shop…

Checked what days it was open…what time it opened…the address…figured we had all day so stopped for coffee…piddled around…took our dear sweet time…only to find…

One of us…and she shall remain nameless…forgot to read the fine print…the fine print that said closing time was 1 o’clock…and shopping us got there—at 1:10…

And so it is…in life…she who laughs, comes in last…or in this case, comes in late, too late…and ends up going to the HEB next door, instead…
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And this husband of mine…agrees…