Home-Tripping

The mesmerizing whisper of the windshield wipers clearing the endless raindrops away as we inch our way home. Home; the call of Chubby Chick, my own little house and overstacked desk, the work he was happy to walk away from but really is ready to be doing again. My thoughts drift as much as the semis swaying beside us, contemplating life, which somehow seems more real, more vivid when you’ve been pulled out of your normal ruts. More sweet memories and moments committed to the past. Nebraska will forever and always be dear to us. Life feels fragile; a wreck narrowly avoided as a little Fiat fiats about a little too friskily. The best conversations come to pass as the miles go by, side by side but no need for eye contact. The fact that no one can escape makes it ideal. My thick book beckons whenever my navigation skills are not called upon. Or my magazines or drawing supplies. Always, more activities than I can possibly complete lie at my crowded feet. Sonic sandwich wrappers waft about the truck. Piles of stuff erupting here and there like mini Mt. Vesuvius(s). I do a trash dump at the gas stations every now and then, but otherwise I choose to surrender cleanliness in favor of comfortable chaos. Roadtripping always calls for snackitty snacks. Mini unwrapped Reese’s with salty pretzels…mmmmm. We all love them. A trailer is following us since Lepanto, AR, so I don’t even bother to offer to pilot this big rig anymore. Princess Passenger is my sole role. Vital Farm Eggs on my lap, cradled with care. Thanks, Audge! Darkness is falling; we are weary. But the lights of home are pulling us along, mile by open road mile. The pull of my very own pillow; my favorite people so close to me hour after hour. My heart is happy.  

Working at Waffle House

(This story was mostly written on the day it took place which was 10.25.23. I’m finally getting it edited and posted while I’m waiting for a deer in the tree stand.)

For a long time now, I’ve wanted to work at Waffle House. Not “work” as in wait tables and pour coffee, but “work” as in “take my office work” to Waffle House.  I figured that the change of scenery would inspire a boost in productivity, plus I had a $25 Waffle House gift card! So today was the day to do this I decided! Armed with my laptop, charging cord, unopened mail, letter opener, and appetite, I arrived at last at our Atmore Waffle House, which is a bit of drive as it’s located near Interstate 65. A corner booth was open, so I snagged that and proceeded to order my standing favorite breakfast at this establishment. Pecan Waffle with a side of Bacon and Endless Black Coffee. A very grumbly older woman took my order whilst complaining about her co-workers. “No worries,” I thought. “I can cheer her up and I’ll leave her a generous tip!” She plunked my food down and muttered away. It was just as good if not better than I remembered. You do need to salt the waffle after adding the syrup though. Trust me. You won’t regret it. I asked who I assumed was the manager if they had WiFi. “No? Oh OK, thanks.” Hmmmm… do they even like people to work at their Waffle House? I started to watch how long other patrons were staying and whether or not there were open tables. Meanwhile, my plan to cheer up my whiny waitress was miserably failing because she never came back to my table. A couple other happier humans refilled my cup with coffee as they passed by. I finished my food and continued to peck away at the document that I was making decent headway on. A table over, sat a beautiful elderly black woman, who looked so familiar to me! I couldn’t help myself and stepped over to ask her if she used to work at Atmore Hospital! Sure enough, it was Ms. Rosa and she remembered me too from the days of volunteering there with Kristi years ago! Seeing her was a huge perk of working at Waffle House! Back at my “desk,” I worked a little more before deciding it was time to depart. I went to pay with my gift card, but alas, it declined. And then declined again even though I knew it should still have the full $25 balance! Flustered, I said to forget it, and paid with a different card. Next was a quick stop to use the loo before heading on my way. I noticed that it didn’t look as if the commode had flushed properly, but thought it was no biggie. I did a flush that confirmed things were not flushing according to manufacturer’s expectations. Now what?! Surely one more good solid holding down of the handle will solve the issue! But it DID NOT!! Rather, it caused an instant and extreme overflowing situation!!! Everyone woman’s worst bathroom nightmare! Even though I had not caused the initial plugging, I knew the right thing to do was to TELL SOMEONE. But every Waffle House worker was busy, and I felt so kerflummoxed that I just walked out the door, feeling like I would never again be able to set foot inside this particular Waffle House. Why had I wanted to work at Waffle House?! My own little home office is so cozy and inviting with a private restroom that boasts a wonderfully fast-flushing toilet just down the hall. Oh well, what is life if not an adventure?? And since I called the number on the back of the gift card and was told that I do indeed have $25 yet to spend, I know that one day soon or not so soon, I will once again attempt to work at Waffle House. I just might pop into Popeyes once I’m done though, instead of risking the Waffle House water closet.