I am trapped at my parents’ house, with no food, no car, and nobody to drink with (which would make everything all right).
John is off having a great time being interviewed (not for a job — for his frat) and doing exciting things. He looked so pretty in his suit when he left this morning, excited to be stopping at a bakery to pick up the traditional Miami breakfast on the go: cafe con leche and a pastelito.
AND IT DIDN’T REGISTER at the time that I was not going to be able to do the same.
No cafe con leche for me. No pastelito for me. It’s almost one o’clock and there is no sign of him. This is seriously impacting by joy quotient for the day. There is, however, the promise of a spectacular steak dinner. Later.
Right now, I am rummaging through the old folks’ pantry, feeling a little sad that they eat the kind of colossally boring stuff I am finding. Like Fat Free Genuine Jamaican Water Crackers.
I need a mojito.
