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Granny lunch day and somehow I've been promoted to chauffeur

Last night, around 7 o'clock, Grandma Gin called relaying potentially bad news for the monthly lunch-it might be called off due to the van being in the shop, a part being hard to find/install, etc.

So we agreed that I'd assume lunch was off unless I heard from her.

1015 a.m. she called. Nothing about the van (until late in the conversation), but she wanted to know if I could 'swing by and pick her and her friend Maggie up'...on my way to the restaurant. Turns out the van is just too hard for them to navigate anymore.

She mentioned how comfy my car is, and that I should just pull right up front (but in front of the van since it'll be out there too and it needs room to load up), and they'd meet me out there.

How much extra time am I going to spend in Hell for being a little bit irritated that this lunch, which usually takes a whole lot longer than even a long executive lunch, will take even more time since I'm now on pickup and delivery duty?

Stevie the workhorse needs to chill, doesn't she? And Stevie the granddaughter who realizes that every moment with Grandma Gin is precious, no matter how vexing those individual moments may be at times, needs to step up the plate and shut her damned mouth.

This is me, chillin'. And knowing this pile of deadlines on my desk will be just fine waiting another half hour or so.

They're sure as Hell not going anywhere, right?


[Post Granny Lunch update: All went well. Grandma and Maggie came with me, we enjoyed a lovely lunch at Stuart Anderson's Black Angus (which, I have to admit, I thought was out of business since the last time I was there was the day Grandma Gin jumped the median on her way into the parking lot while hauling my Great Aunt Julia with her to meet me for lunch.)


So now I'm back and I either need a strong cup of coffee or a nap.


Bless those grannies.]
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