Last night, we had wonderful sleep. I hate using the central air just for the sake of having air-conditioning, but Esteban prefers it cold. However, last night, it was nice pre-autumn weather and we slept with all of the bedroom windows open. I love open window sleeping. Esteban does too, he just doesn’t know it.
I had a weird dream though. I dreamt that we went to the Sunday breakfast buffet at Ponderosa and I had ham. Ok, not so weird, but then this morning, Esteban and I decided to go to breakfast. After driving around the entire city, determining that most of our favorites were too packed or what have you, we drove by Ponderosa, and Esteban says “How about there?”, and actually, it wasn’t full of people. Then I told him about the Ponderosa breakfast buffet dream and that I didn’t want to go there, because I’d been eating there all fucking night, but Esteban pointed out that maybe we were fated to go there. That’s bullshit, because Esteban doesn’t believe in fate, he was just using it to hasten our breakfast decision.
So, all right, fine, we went there.
And I had ham.
And that was about the extent of that. So much for fate.
One funny thing happened though. We were sitting in the solarium section with just one other couple a few tables away. We had finished eating and were talking. I had just offered Esteban my piece of chocolate cake, which I took for the simple reason that I knew he would want a piece of chocolate cake, but he wouldn’t want to actually go up and get dessert for himself. We’re codependent that way. Anyway, when I asked him if he wanted the piece of chocolate cake, he said “Yes” immediately in the way that meant that he’d been longing for my cake the entire time, but didn’t want to act on his chocolate desires.
Having just finished our desserts, we were discussing whether or not chocolate was elemental to survival and SHOULD it be required for all world leaders to eat some chocolate cake before making any major decisions, when SQUAP the sound of a fart being laid on a flat wooden chair!
I looked at Esteban and he had the sort of horrified look on his face that said “Oh my, that wasn’t supposed to have been audible!”
Need I tell you that I lost it? Need I tell you that I was laughing so hard that I actually got a little high from lack of oxygen to my brain? I was drooling at one point.
Esteban did not fair much better.
To their credit, the other couple did not miss a beat of their conversation. They continued to prattle on about some unfunny thing. I don’t know how they did it, considering two hysterically shaking fools behind them.
When we regained our strength, we fled.
One of the first things Esteban asked once we had reached the safety of the Monte was “You’re going to write about this in your diary, aren’t you.”
“How can I not?” I gasped through my laughter.
The whole event was very funny and of the sort that bonds marriages. Then again, maybe it was fate and my dream was prophetic? Who knows.
The ham sucked, though. Other than that, it’s been a very fine Sunday morning.
The Guestbook knows better than to let one on a wooden chair
