Early this morning we drove across the bridge to have the surgery. We were sprung around 11:30 and Tom wanted breakfast since he hadn't been able to eat beforehand. Myself, I was a total wreck. I could barely think of anything other than returning straight home where we belonged.
We drove past Sol Food and noticed that there wasn't a line. We'd always wanted to try that place. I was driving, of course, and couldn't park the car to save my life. This is a little town (San Rafael) where it's easy to park, but somehow I ended up making countless u-turns and getting blasted by car horns and parking blocks from the restaurant.
I tried to hold onto Tom's arm just to make sure he wasn't going to keel over. He was wearing big dark glasses and my baseball cap to keep the sun out of his eyes. When we got into the restaurant I was instantly uncomfortable (shared tables, loud music, pressure to order quickly when Tom could hardly read). But we had wanted to try it for so long and we had already hobbled blocks across town ...
I wasn't able to focus on the menu at all but I noticed that there was no alcohol on the menu. Eventually I ordered arroz con huevos. We sat down at a huge table for 8. It took a while for the coffee with milk to arrive … but I must stop for a moment and vouch for the coffee with milk which was wonderful.
Tom, I realized with relief, seemed to be in a trance. But I was a complete wreck. I couldn't tell whether I was sitting up straight or slouching. My eggs came. They were acceptable, but certainly not worth waiting in line for, especially with no lettuce, tomatoes, onion, or beer.
It's a good thing I don't have children. I would've turned into shell of my former self long before my time. I couldn't have coped with their illnesses or injuries. Being with Tom this morning at this relatively simple procedure turned me into a basket case.
