The big boss of my company is Mormon. I discovered this fact while perusing the company website - he got his undergrad degree at BYU. It was a few months before I was able to confirm that yes, he is, in fact, a big fat Mormon. It took a while because I couldn't exactly go up and ask him - we don't have that sort of relationship; hell, my boss doesn't have that sort of relationship with him. But with the right questions in the right places, I got the confirmation I was looking for and now I want to talk to him about it. I even wore my CTR ring to work there for a month or so, hoping he'd see it and strike up a conversation. I don't know why I want to talk to my big boss about his religion. My fascination is more of a sickness, I think.
We went out last night to drop off the money for Winterfest with Rick, and then to Waffle House for dinner. I tipped the waitress $20. When we got to the car, Jimi said, "It was because she was pregnant, wasn't it?"
"Of course it was because she was pregnant." I thought for a moment. "Well, it was because she's pregnant, and she's working at Waffle House at 11:30 on a Friday night and she's about to pop and her feet must be killing her and her poor back and..."
He finished my sentence with me, "...and she remembered your milk."
She did remember my milk. No one ever remembers my milk.
I'm going ice skating now. Have a great Saturday!