This post was supposed to be called "Don't judge a parking garage by its cover." Oh, how I wish that were the title!
Dad and I spent today in Kansas City. We had lunch at Andre's, an amazing little Swiss tea room, and visited the National World War I Museum. First though, we stopped by the Central Library for what was supposed to be a quick photo op of their super-cool parking garage:
While we were there, however, we decided to go into the library to visit the . . . ahem . . . facilities. Then we browsed the video collection, got our parking validated, and headed back out to the car, where I discovered that I was no longer in possession of my cell phone. I freaked out, and we raced back into the library, with Dad heading for the security guard at the circulation desk and me going back to the ladies' room.
When I got there, the stall I had used was occupied. I said, "Excuse me, but is there a cell phone in there?" Indeed there was! I must have set it on the paper dispenser and forgotten it. Before I could say, "I'll just wait for you to come out," my phone was sliding across the bathroom floor like a hockey puck. I snatched it up with 2 fingers, stuffed it in my pocket, and ran upstairs to share the good news with Dad, and we had a laugh about my phone's misadventures.
I wish the story could end there, with us going on our way for a delicious lunch and an educational tour of the museum. Unfortunately, later that afternoon, I found myself in a parking lot, fumbling with my gloves, my purse, my phone, and as I sometimes do when I could benefit from a third hand, I STUCK THE PHONE IN MY MOUTH!
In answer to the question posed above, it's going to be a long time and a lot of Listerine before my mother lets me anywhere near her with this mouth!
3 years ago