A Carry Out Tale

It got pretty late pretty early the other day. It’s that daylight savings time. Without the telltale streaks of a setting sun saying, “Go home,” I can end up having dinner seriously fashionably late.

Seeing the time, I decided that it was a good night for a-pick-something-up-on-the-way-meal. I called Sig for a quick consult. He didn’t answer. 

Freed from cooking, I went into the bookstore since I was so close and ended up spending another 30 minutes looking at books and checking out what was on sale.  I called Sig as I left the store but he still didn’t answer. 

I decided on KFC for dinner. (Ever since the Colonel started selling grilled chicken in addition to their original deep-fried, I am a born again fan. With green beans and coleslaw, it’s not a bad little meal.) By this time, it was close to 8:00. I called Sig one last time as I waited in line. When he didn’t answer, I decided that he had surely eaten something by now and only put in one order. 

He was sitting on the porch finishing up a chicken taco and a burrito.  

“There are a couple of tacos in the house for you.” 

“Thanks, I stopped and got some chicken. I called you a few times but you never answered.” I said. 

It reminded me of the O Henry story about the wife who cuts her hair and sells it to buy a watch chain for her husband, only to find out that her husband had sold his watch to buy a hair comb for her. Well, correction, Sig reminded me of the husband in the story. After I finished eating my chicken, I made chocolate pudding for him.

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