Yesterday was going so well. It was a random 72 degree October day, and Y and I were buying lunch to take to a picnic by the lake. Perfect, right?
And then the most horrifying thing came out of Y's mouth:
"We should go across the street and buy some pop."
I guess there were other signs that we were starting to acclimate to our new state. First there was the flannel.
And then there's the one member of our family that has mastered the art of Minnesota Nice.
The epitome of passive aggressive behavior: When Ike wants to go for a walk, he now just sits by the door and looks really, really sad.
I had accepted all of that. But pop I just can't do. It just sounds so wrong to my ears.
To my fellow Southerners; y'all will be happy to know didn't let him continue until he clarified and said soda -- even though every good Southerner knows you say coke and let everyone wonder which specific drink you mean.