While working today, Opreggano provided me with some very important information, “I’ve got a bottle of wine that needs finishing. Stop by later if you want.” As I was on my way home, I phoned her to let her know I would stop by and she reminded me of the wine. “OK, well, I’ll just have one glass,” I responsibly replied.
I arrived at her house, she poured me a glass of wine, and poured herself a glass of lemonade. I was chatting with her for some time before I 1) took a drink and b) noticed the pour. “Look at that pour! Did you put the entire bottle in that glass?” I asked her. “I told you I had a bottle of wine to finish and you said you only wanted one glass.”
A little while later she experienced a pregnancy craving. “I really want some mashed potatoes.” “Do you want me to drive you to get some?” I asked. “Please,” she kindly pleaded.
For some reason, once at the drive-thru, we decided to speak ‘robot.’ Actually, we had been speaking robot for some time, but it seemed even funnier at the drive-thru. Unfortunately, it also resulted in our order being screwed up. “I have a feeling those are going to be some salty mashed potatoes,” I told her. “Mmmm,” she replied.
While sitting at the pick-up window, an incessant bell kept sounding, “Is someone backing up in there?” I asked the employee (in robot, of course). “No,” she replied, “it just means you’ve been here too long.” I’m pretty sure Opreggano and I are going to invest in the bell, or something like that, for our homes.
We got back to Opreggano’s house, cracked open the potatoes, dumped on the gravy and our sporks began working overtime. “I love mashed potatoes,” Opreggano told me just before eating a lovely sporkful of delicious. “Me too, but I’m not sure being pregnant with you is going to work out for me,” I told her. “Hey, I drank wine with you,” she defended herself. “Right, but neither of us were pregnant. I’m going to get fat and you’ll still just be pregnant.” She responded, in robot, “Well. There. Is. That.”
Once I got home, I did as I always do, sent her a text letting her know I was safe. She replied, “Only eight more months of being pregnant with me, but the robot is forever.”