It seems that I've been missing out on a whole lot of fortune by making my own takeout.
This prediction came by way of just the cookie, totally unattached from spicy mustard packets and wonton noodles, and Confucius--that old dog--was right!
I traveled to a state I'd never been!
I met new people, jumped on the hotel bed, ironed something before wearing it, and ate food not prepared by me.
On the highway home, billboards advertising a treasure trove of delights made me wish I had had more time to explore--Larry was selling his big guns, Crazy Steve was earning his nickname by slashing bottle rocket prices to an insanely low 99 cents, and did you know that moonshine is now legal?
A big regret was not stopping at the VIP Spa. My shoulders ached from driving, but I just wasn't sure what qualifies one as a VIP? They listed a phone number and mentioned plenty of truck parking, so there was probably a guest list.
I did take one chance to smell the roses--or as my newfound luck would have it, the diesel and Chester's Chicken--and saw a man with the most glorious mane of silky curls!
Even his leather chaps looked freshly-buffed!
He must have splashed out a bundle for the full treatment.