A bad audition day (for the husband)

Because I am a very lucky girl, with a very supportive husband, we go on musical adventures together as a family. Joel is a man of simple pleasures.  When we are in a new town, his joys come from there being a Cheesecake Factory or a PF Changs nearby. Maybe the hotel has free USA Todays, or maybe there is Starbucks within walking distance! It’s the little things – I get it.

Well, let’s just say things didn’t go his way this time.  As we wove our way through the streets looking for our reserved accommodations, peering ahead at street signs, his mind was eager with anticipation.  This was surely to be a weekend full of off-the-wagon choices like eating scones and having a coke with dinner! Life is pretty routine at home with the baby, and any excuse for a trip is a welcome one just to do something out of the ordinary! But he started to wonder if he was reliving some of his old days in Texas, as the place we pulled into made the motel in “Dallas Buyer’s Club” look very appealing indeed.  He’s no snob, but he couldn’t help but feel uneasy as the person sweeping the stoop had only one eye.  “Would the baby be safe here? I guess there probably wont be free papers…” his mind flip-booked nervously through a slide-show of movie scenes featuring run-down motels.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the wifi worked, and immediately mapped the route to a nearby Starbucks.  The drive was a very long 6 miles on a crowded 4 lane road exactly like Route 9 in Boston, complete with too many utility stores, but without any of the Massachusetts urgency.  No one wanted to get anywhere at all!  Dammit people, we’ve got a crying baby on board!  Finally Starbucks appeared.  As he turned off the engine, he considered ordering an Americano instead of regular coffee. Nah, he thought, too rich, stepped out of the car, and slipped immediately.  He was suddenly lying cartoon flat, hilariously so, and thankfully uninjured.

This was the worst day of his life, poor guy, and I said something obnoxious about karma.

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