The Pony and I have found a new favorite lunch: Dairy Queen Pretzel Sticks. They are on the 2-for-$4 menu. Three soft pretzel sticks, with a little container of queso sauce for dipping. The Pony doesn't like queso. We have a deal. I let him choose the pretzels with the most salt crystals, and he gives me his queso. Sometimes I also get him the two chicken strips off the same menu.
Of course I like a little something more than just pretzels for a meal. So I toss a few taquitos in the oven. They're GREAT with the extra queso sauce. You know what taquitos are. The little rolled flour tortillas stuffed with chicken and cheese, about the thickness of a fat kindergarten pencil.
Wednesday, I had my tray ready. It was a little crowded, what with a plate for the taquitos, the cardboard container with pretzels sticking out, the two quesos, and a ramekin of salsa. Plus my scratchers under the plate. And a spoon for the salsa.
Anyhoo... I slung that double Devil's Playground plastic bag over my arm, the two bubba cups of ice sandwiching my 44 oz Diet Coke. I held the tray in my hand. I used my free hand to hold onto the balusters as I descended to my lair. There's no rail, you know!
I was on the second step from the bottom. I'd transferred bag and tray to my right hand. I was stepping down with my left foot, holding onto the ceiling with my left hand. Then it was time to grab the metal pole that supports the ceiling. In stepping down at that time, I lurched.
It was only a lurch. Not a smooth step. I wasn't in danger of falling. No trick knee collapse. Just a little gap in timing between the step down and the hand on the pole. In the midst of that lurch,
A TAQUITO ROLLED OFF MY PLATE!
Oh, the tasty Mexicanity! I let out a yelp of despair. The Pony, obliviously pinching his butt in the broke-seat La-Z-Boy, did not even inquire as to my okayness. I finished my descent. Set bag and tray on the steps. Took my new cell phone SamGalA out of my shirt pocket, and laid him on the step as well. And picked up my fallen taquito.
It was a little longer than five seconds. I carefully blew off any dust bunnies or millipede toe-jam, and put that treat back on my plate. It tasted as good as the non-fallen.
It might have even had a little extra protein. Millipede toe-jam is the new white meat.
ReplyDeleteI would have done the same thing, with the added bright torch inspection for cat hairs needing to be removed. They're everywhere, those cat hairs, EVERYWHERE!
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteBetter than FAKE meat!
River,
ReplyDeleteI've never had an inside cat, but I know what you mean! My favorite gambling aunt has cats. She gave us teachers mini candles for Christmas one year, and they were full of cat hairs. When she (rarely) baked cookies and brought them to school, I politely declined!