Tuesday, April 29. 2014

Other than the occasional donut, I don’t bother to eat out much.

However, yesterday I missed breakfast what with one thing or the other. I found myself forty miles across the state, well without the boundaries of my comfort zone and familiar county.

One of the problems with that situation I found was where to eat. I discovered, asking around, was that I was in a dying, small town America. All  the restaurants had packed the ghost, leaving me the choice of a convenience in the middle of town or a convenience store out the highway.

I opted for the center of town.

That left me a wide range of convenience sandwiches. Of them I had my choicgeof small of a type, a regular of a type or a real gosh man sized of a type.

I opted for the cold sandwich of the real gosh man sized type and headed for the micro-wave.

I wasn’t able, given even that I’d skipped breakfast, to finish that sandwich and couldn’t even dent the coffee because of the high temperature. I did satisfy my appetite and finished my business rapidly there after and turned home.

I got as far as the next highway convenience store and their rest rooms weren’t too bad. And the next, where they don’t seem to care for their restrooms at all, and then one more, where I suppose, the restrooms were tolerable; then I made it home.

My day started pretty well, my business didn’t do what I wanted, but did do what I more then not expected it to do. And it ended as I’ve explained.


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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