The Eighty-Second Day of Winter

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Sometimes desperation to get out of the house causes strange choices. 

Like tonight, for instance. I heard rumors about a book club as a church social event. It sounds like something I might enjoy, but I have almost no information about it. All I know is the approximate time and place it meets: Starbucks.

In case you don’t know, I’m not Starbucks literate. I don’t drink coffee. I think previous to tonight’s desperate move to get out of the house without kids, I’ve only ever ordered a croissant or hot chocolate at Starbucks.

But I can’t be eating a croissant while everyone else is sipping their multi-titled drink. And, thanks to BabyMyBoy, I can’t do hot chocolate either.

The barista looks at me, waiting for me to roll my order off my tongue as easily as I might relay my date of birth.

And I panic. I’m not sure what I ordered. All I know is that it is not coffee. It is cold. And gross.


The good news is the book club people show up and I’m welcomed to the group. It looks like I’ll have more opportunity to get out of the house… oh, and become more Starbucks literate.

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