Just Another Relaxing Day

Just Another Relaxing Day

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Wednesday...Pizza Night

The day of the week we all look forward to..no cooking, no dishes, and...best of all..no mess. Oh, if every night could be this easy! Pick up the phone, place your order and thirty minutes later dinner arrives. Now, I am not saying you'll be dining gourmet, but the smells emanating from inside that cardboard box make your mouth water the minute the pizza boy comes to the door. Picture the scene.

After thirty minutes of waiting...which now seems more like three hundred...we pace back and forth in front of the window watching for any sign of our pizza that seems to be MIA. A few cars make their rounds down our street, but none take the glorious turn into our driveway. What is it about waiting for the pizza guy that makes it seem like an eternity? Minutes seem like hours, and, if I have to hear one more time, "Mommy, when is the pizza going to be here?", I am going to take that pizza and throw it right in the trash.

Now, you first instinct might be to call the pizza place to ask if the driver has left with your pizza...OF COURSE HE HAS...do you really think they are going to say, No, I am sorry. We haven't even put your pizza in the oven yet. Give us thirty more minutes...they are going to placate you with exactly what they think you want to hear...we won't even mention that the high school kid who took your order the first time accidentally let the order slip drop in the trash..so, really this phone call is your first order....but we won't mention any of that....

After fifteen more minutes go by...you make the dreaded decision to call the pizza shop...just as you pick up the phone, the doorbell rings. Mr. Sixteen year old, who barely seems old enough to drive, is at the door with your pizza. Oh, and never mind the fact that he pulled up in his brand new Lexus SUV...what in the world does he need this job for?....but all negativity suddenly vanishes as everyone catches a whiff of the freshly baked pizza...you hurriedly hand him the money thinking whether a tip is really necessary...but then again we don't want any extra spit toppings next week...as you close the door, you have survived another Wednesday Pizza night.

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