The Giggler

My Honey and I had a blissfully kid free dinner and a non-animated movie this evening.  It was our wedding anniversary this week, and Grammy was drafted to keep Sassy and The Bandit over night.  We were so excited, we were almost giddy.  We went out to an expensive dinner at one of our favorite restaurants.  The food was good, and the wait staff amusing, if a little slow.  My Honey and I got a little silly at one point, remembering a funny Jim Gaffigan line about the fresh pepper restaurants are always so excited about offering.

“Fresh ground pepper, sir?”

“Fresh?  This isn’t fresh.  I grew up on a pepper farm and this is stale pepper!”

The bus boy heard us giggling and then he joined in.  The waitress forgot the lake the fresh fish was from so, for the rest of the night, I teased her about that.  After our main course, she asked if she could bring anything else, and I suggested a nice pair of sweat pants with the restaurant’s logo would be appreciated.  Wouldn’t that be great?  I’ll bet restaurants would sell more desserts if they did that.

For a while now, a month or so, the check engine light has been on in my car.  The computer says that the gas cap has lost it’s seal and we need to replace it.  We did, but apparently the computer can tell that we didn’t get a genuine Dodge gas cap, and the Auto Zone one is clearly inferior.  We are in no giant rush to get to the Dodge dealer and spend a gazillion dollars on a stupid gas cap.  The point of this diversion is that My Honey suggested when the valet returned with our car we demand to know what he did to have the check engine light come on.  Of course, by the time the valet got there, I was wheezing from giggling so hard that he was sure to know something was up. 

That’s a problem with me – giggling.  Some of the best plans are ruined by my giggling.