While Rye does not contain a single drive-thru Asian joint (which is a travesty), it does include an Italian one. So instead of eggrolls, I am eating spaghetti for dinner.
While both countries of culinary origin reside in the same hemisphere – spaghetti does not satisfy an eggroll craving.
In case you are wondering.
Despite the lack of pork, cabbage and plum sauce I attacked my dinner with gusto. While spaghetti & meatballs wasn’t what my stomach demanded, it did sate my hangries, leaving me in a mellower frame of mind. I offered up silent thanks to whichever god steered Joseph away from me pre-food. If he’d stopped by before, I might have taken him up on his offer to actively ‘persuade’ Little Ben to leave Nevermore.
After stowing away my trash, I snuggled under the Princess’s matching afghans and propped my tablet up against the steering wheel. Deciding my neurons needed a jump-start, I snagged one of the three thermoses of coffee from the back seat.
No rest for the wicked.
My brain and I needed to start working on my other problem, Sunny Valley Farm.
If Wood’s ridiculously fun Brace Affair didn’t do the job, I needed a fallback plan – which unfortunately placed the corner of Bitter and Sweet. Because, subversion, subterfuge, and counterfeiting aren’t pleasant words, but they defined what I might be forced to do to keep Nevermore safe.
Turning on my tablet, I opened my copy of the program Little Ben loves to use when concocting his proposals, campaigns, and announcements. Over the past few days, I’d retyped all of Little Ben’s original text and yesterday I’d copied all the graphics from the Sunny Valley Farm website (which thankfully did not include the proposed location yet).
All of this allowed me to while away the time waiting for Joseph by creating and/or updating the documents from the press packet Sarah’d given me.
Turns out this was only a one thermos task.
Switching tracks I tuned (which just sounds nicer than googled) my tablet to KARB hoping to catch the news. Leaning my seat back a bit and pulling the afghans over my arms I listened to the cymbals, drums, and piano of Brubeck’s Take Five start playing….
The rain beat down in time Diana Krall’s Devil May Care while my brain struggled to convince my unwilling eyes to open up just a crack. Yup, it was raining, the drops obscuring the mausoleums from my vision (which was impressive as they were touching distance away). With this small sensory input, my nerves decided to chime in and let my brain know their displeasure at sleeping in the Princess’s drivers seat….for, well crap, five hours.
An amused voice addressed me: “Good Morning.”
Crappity crap crap crap.
Rubbing my eyes…
Me (thickly): “Morning.”
Vision moderately clearer I attempted to turn my neck. Well, that was a bad idea. A crick informed me that under no uncertain terms should I attempt trying that feat again in the near future.
Turning my entire body, I leaned against the driver’s door and blinked at the man in my passenger seat.
The crease in his dove grey pants could slice a steak in half.
Trying to remove the custard filling from my head I leaned forward to snag the full thermos from behind the passenger’s seat. Not bothering with the cup I drank straight from the top.
Cold coffee is better than no coffee at all.
Joseph looked even more amused when I put the thermos down.
Joseph: “Long night?”
Me (it took a moment for me to quit staring at him): “Yes, I’ve been here since midnight.”
Joseph (tilting his head): “Problem with your new rooms?”
Me (waiting for the coffee to catch up): “No, nothing like that. I was waiting for you.”
Joseph (laughing quietly): “Funny, I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”