Over the weekend, Dana and I, upon waiting for LL Bean to open, stopped by Panera and bought a baker’s dozen bagels plus spread. Panera has these sugar-encrusted flavored bagels — French Toast, Dutch Apple & Raisin, Cinnamon Crunch — that almost qualifies them as cakes. Especially when you slather them on with honey walnut cream cheese spread.
So after coming home from school today, I put a French Toast bagel in the toaster and eat it. With the honey walnut spread, of course. Then the Cinnamon Crunch. Then the Dutch Apple and Raisin.
Then I go to sleep.
When I wake up, it’s 7:30. My writing group meets at 6:30 (though they usually don’t get started until 7:00 or so). And it’s my short story being critiqued today.
Dana’s like, “Hey, don’t you have writer’s group today?”
I’m like, “AAAARGH, woman!!!”
Dana’s like, “Oh well. Loser.”
I’m rushing out the door, speedwalking to the coffee house, fumbling with my cell phone. I call everybody in the group, one at a time. Nobody answers. Of course, nobody would recognize me on their phone because I haven’t given out my cell phone number to any of them, and this is the first time I’ve called any one of them.
Aha! Brilliant idea: I’ll just text someone. So I’m texting Angel, but apparently my cell phone has this feature where it tries to guess which word I’m trying to text and fills it in for me. I’m huffing and puffing and angrily jabbing into my phone because it keeps trying to say, “On the moon,” not “On the way.”
By the time, I send “On the way tom” I’m a block away, and I see everyone outside the coffee house about to leave.
They see me, though, and graciously wave me over and head back inside to finish the night. They were even nice about my story. I know, though, that in their minds I am just a little bit more of a schmuck.