Driving home late last night, my husband says, “Operation Y.T. is a go. We need to make our move. Now.”
The rain pounds the windshield and the tires are kicking up a wake on both sides. I can’t see a thing. Good thing he’s the one driving.
“Now?” I ask. “It’s almost midnight.”
“The troops have spoken. There’s no turning back.”
Sigh. Hate when they vote without me.
So we pull into Wendy’s.
Operation Y.T. coined its name… Continue reading
