I had the spread prepped. Up all night creaming potatoes and shredding boiled chicken. Up at 5 this morning to buy fresh salad greens. Cutting each sandwich into 9 tiny sandwiches. Crisping parsley garnishes so people could throw them away. This was the way to start a catering business. I was tired, but I was going to get some clients today. All the ladies in my mother's Sunday School class had gotten personalized invitations a week ago including an invitation for one friend.
Mom walked through the carport door. Her face was ashen. "No one got an invitation. No one's coming."
Wha. But I. Oh crap. The invitations are still in the box on my passenger floorboard. Oh no. Oh no. I can make this work. I can make this happen. I pull out my phone and start texting all of my friends, inviting their parents, inviting their children.
The doorbell rings, jerking me out of the middle of a sentence. Mom is doubled over by the sink. "Hoo boy. I got you good."
I had the spread prepped. Up all night creaming potatoes and shredding boiled chicken. Up at 5 this morning to buy fresh salad greens. Cutting each sandwich into 9 tiny sandwiches. Crisping parsley garnishes so people could throw them away. This was the way to start a catering business. I was tired, but I was going to get some clients today. All the ladies in my mother's Sunday School class had gotten personalized invitations a week ago including an invitation for one friend.
ReplyDeleteMom walked through the carport door. Her face was ashen. "No one got an invitation. No one's coming."
Wha. But I. Oh crap. The invitations are still in the box on my passenger floorboard. Oh no. Oh no. I can make this work. I can make this happen. I pull out my phone and start texting all of my friends, inviting their parents, inviting their children.
The doorbell rings, jerking me out of the middle of a sentence. Mom is doubled over by the sink. "Hoo boy. I got you good."
I hate my mother.
Good one, B. ;)
ReplyDelete