Back to the story. A few days ago, the hubby and I were sitting around telling tales about old times and whatnot. We've been married for almost seven years, so we have heard most of each other's stories. But, apparently, I had somehow neglected to tell him the story of how I threw salt on a priest. I know, I couldn't believe my oversight, either. It's a pretty short story, but I couldn't deny you this little gem. (I may have a tendency to hold my stories in an overly high regard.)
One day, probably ten years ago, I was eating lunch at an Applebee's because I'm classy. So I'm eating my triple burger fajita nacho fries or some such nonsense, when I decide to liberally apply salt to my meal. I do so love me some salt. How my heart has yet to explode is a medical mystery. But, alas, tragedy occurs! The top comes off of the stupid salt shaker, and salt goes everywhere. As I am not a risk taker by nature, I immediately scooped up some of the wayward salt and threw it over my shoulder into the Devil's eye. (I think that's what happens when you throw salt over your shoulder, but I could be wrong.) Just as I was sitting there congratulating myself on counteracting the bad juju that had been placed on me when I spilled the salt, I noticed a look of horror on the faces of my dining companions. My younger brother was with me, and all he could do was point. Slowly, I looked over my shoulder in the direction that I had just capriciously thrown a handful of salt. And what did I see? A priest eating his lunch with his back to me. Oh, and an entire handful of salt all over his black suit thingy (again, not Catholic.) But, he hadn't noticed! So what did I do? Point out my mistake, and apologize to the priest? Heaven's no, that's what an adult would do! We quickly paid our bill, and high tailed it out of there, certain that we would be struck down by lightening at any moment. I have yet to receive punishment of any sort for this encounter, but for all I know, it could be any day now. So, I wait...and watch.