Yeah.
Texas.
I was absolutely ready to spend some time writing out my thoughts on the first handful of days I have spent in San Antonio. But before I was to begin writing, I thought it would be nice to go out and pick up some Chick-Fil-A. When I arrived at said chicken establishment, I was pleasantly surprised to see that they were currently offering their peach milkshake. Fantastic. I love their peach milkshakes. So I go ahead and order their chicken sandwich meal with extra pickles and a peach milkshake. Driving back to the house where I am staying I think to myself, “Self, this will be a nice evening. A pleasant meal followed by a nice milkshake and some time writing about the current events in my life.”
After pulling into the garage I hopped out of the car with a bag containing my chicken sandwich and waffle fries in one hand and the milkshake in the other. Because I was also holding my keys, I held the milkshake from the top of the cup. Nanoseconds after I shut the drivers’ side door and turned towards the door into the house, disaster struck!
My fingers, either slightly moistened by the minute San Antonio humidity or from trace greases left behind after sneaking a waffle fry while driving, lost grip of the cup containing my delicious milkshake. Before I even knew what was happening, the cup collided with the smooth concrete floor of the garage. The force of the Styrofoam cup against the hard floor not only shot the milkshake out of the mouth of the cup, but it also caused the bottom of the cup to expel not only a circular disc of Styrofoam, but the remainder of my milkshake as well.
Five minutes, a dozen paper towels, and some disgustingly sticky hands later I was shutting the garage door and preparing to wash my dinner down with a glass of water. This turn of events spoiled my mood and so with that, I will not be doing any more writing tonight.
