[Awww yeahhh 1993. What a bright pink bathing suit I’ve got there. Wait a damn minute, was that really almost twenty years ago?!]
Sometimes I forget about things. Sometimes I get lazy. Sometimes I do both simultaneously.
As I was driving down the highway, I could hear the ice chest in the trunk sloshing around. It sounded like I had a dead body back there. We were close enough to the next stop we were making on our way to Denham Springs for me to ignore it for a few more miles. We finally pulled up on the curb of a friend’s house. The caravan of cars ahead of us had filed neatly into the driveway.
I peeled myself from the driver’s seat and went around the rear of my car. I figured I would investigate what was causing my ice chest to slingshot around my back seat like a bouncy ball. My friend had initially loaded the ice chest. Since I frequently stash things in my trunk (don’t worry, nothing that’s alive… wait that didn’t sound right), I knew there was no telling what I would rediscover when I opened that door.
Whew, it was only an old box. A half-opened old box labeled memories. Read the rest of this entry