Penny and I love to stop at Spencer's in Grenada. Or maybe I love to stop there and since she is riding with me, she has to stop also. But I can't drive by the place without pulling in and making an order. It was years before I realized that you could go inside and eat a hamburger there. I always stopped for the ice-cream.
You walk up to the window and order if you know what you want. The whole outer building, a city block's worth, is covered in menu. There are way too many choices, but I simplify it and just order a strawberry milk shake. Penny, on the other hand, will read the whole menu. This always aggravates me, because I think I could have ordered, consumed my milk shake, and driven home by the time she finishes just going over the menu. Then she gives me her order, and it is eight compound sentences long.
Huh?
Write it down, I say.
It aggravates her that I can't handle the order.
We finally get the deed accomplished and then drive home, Penny silently treating me because I am not competent in female food orders. I never have been, but she knew that before she married me.
Ladies, food orders are difficult for men. Our brains don't think that way. Once you get past a burgher and an order of fries, we sort of get lost. Be patient with us. We are not trying to anger you, we are struggling and doing the best we can. Be nice.
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