On Friday, my best friend/fellow nan-in-training Jenn got together to celebrate Galentine’s day. What’s Galentine’s day you ask? I’ll let Leslie Knope answer that one for you.
Jenn came over on the stormy evening, and we settled in to watch a movie and order some food. Jenn, wanting to get in on my fries, dressing and gravy hunt, suggested we order it from one of the only delivery menus we could find it on online: Peter’s Pizza. So Jenn calls, we place an order for two large fd&g for delivery, and the woman says she’ll call back with the total. Best kind. We turn on Phantom of the Opera and get to discussing the attractiveness of Gerard Butler and critiquing the rest of the movie like two old biddies.
As we watch the movie, Jenn is watching the window like a hawk for our food. Occasionally we remark that it’s strange that we never got the call back, or that it’s taking this long. Must be the weather.
Two hours later, the movie is almost over and Jenn lets out a cry of frustration. “Oh my God Amanda…”
“What, did you miss a call?”
Jenn showed me her phone, which (in new phone confusion) she had put in blocking mode, preventing all calls from coming in. She immediately called back and was informed that they had tried to reach her several times and it was too late for them to get anything out to us now. Jenn apologized and hung up the phone. Then she looked at me and shrugged.
“Friday the 13th.”