TRIFECTA

If you have not yet read Floss Fiasco and Redemption, in that order, you must stop here.  Do not pass Go and do not collect $200.  Click on the links and get those posts fresh in your memory before you venture any further.

Girl8.83 and I were on another adventure last week.  Not surprisingly, it took us over the Pass and through Cle Elum.  Observant Reader, you have got to know what is coming next.  First the issue with the floss, next that whole thing with the yoga pants.  I had another shot at looking AND smelling like a rose, and I could not pass it up.  It is said that the Third Time is a Charm.

I mentally checked myself over.  Early in the day, I had not yet worked up a sweat driving across the state.  I was having a good hair day, I had brushed my teeth before leaving the house, and my clothes were still relatively clean.  I knew I could pull it off this time.  I gave Girl8.83 a cursory glance.  She was presentable, in a road trip kid way.  We pulled into the familiar gravel parking lot.  Outside the front door, I eyed my reflection and once more checked my socks.  They matched.  Brushing some lint from my jacket, I took a deep breath and marched in, Girl8.83 trailing behind me.

The hostess directed us to a new table, far from the previous sites of misfortune.  I found this to be encouraging.  I decided that since we were on Spring Break, Baby!, I should split with tradition and order something different from my regular diet.  I was seriously contemplating the Chicken Fried Steak until the Cottage Burger was served to the cowboy two booths down from us.  It smelled like Heaven.  Deciding to live a little and, barely able to keep myself from drooling, I ordered fries with it.

When my lunch arrived, I was more than delighted.  I could not remember the last time I had eaten a hamburger and fries.  I dripped some ketchup on my plate and prepared to dig in to the best meal in recent memory.  Brandishing my napkin with a theatrical flourish, it slipped out of my hand and fluttered to the floor.  I uttered a "TSK!" of disgust at my clumsiness while I reclined to get a better view under the table.  Spotting it, I tilted to the side.  The table was awfully close and I could not see. My hand was groping blindly with no success.  I had no wish to sweep the floor with my fingertips before diving into my highly anticipated meal.  I leaned forward more in an effort to expand the radius of my exploration.  I was concentrating so hard on what was happening under the table that I failed to recognize my destiny speeding towards me.  It was actually the table with which my nose collided that brought me back to the reality above ground.  I snapped up to a more socially acceptable position and furtively glanced around, hoping that there were no witnesses.

Girl8.83 began to giggle.  "Stop it!", I hissed at her, not wanting to attract the attention of the cowboy, who was enjoying the last bites of his Cottage Burger.  I had déjà vu and not in a good way.  Girl8.83 could hardly contain herself.  Unable to use her words because of her stifled giggles, all she could do was point.  At me.  At my hair.  Yes, Clairvoyant Reader, my hair had dipped into the ketchup while I was conducting the search and rescue operation under the table.

There really is not anything else to say about this.  I have already bared my soul, poured out my former humiliations that occurred at this very same spot.  It is like my own personal Bermuda Triangle.  The only thing left to shout is, "SPRING BREAK, BABY!"