“Want to fuck?”
Two Sundays ago, my wife, Elise, and I were sitting in a parking lot, waiting for a Chinese restaurant to open. We had been running errands all afternoon and asked her mom to order food so we could pick it up and bring it home.
We had been staying at their house in blandest, quietest suburbs you can imagine. Every home looks the same, and things are *far*. (I’ve lived in the city my whole life, and I’m still getting used to driving everywhere when we visit.) Anyway… we had been running around all afternoon in her dad’s minivan and gave wife’s mom a two hour warning of when we’d be done.
As we were wrapping up, around 3 pm, we called her to find out what restaurant she ordered from, and what name it was under.
“Oh, I ordered from Wonton Palace… but it doesn’t open until 4.”
It took a bit of back-and-forth to learn that she HADN’T ordered yet, but she intended to. We were too far from my in-laws to drive there and then drive back, so we were sitting in the parking lot of Wonton Palace with an hour to kill. That’s when my wife turned to me and suggested we use the hour (re)productively.