It was only 10 in the morning, but our Saturday was already a productive one. Our landlord had just come by with a family who was interested in our apartment. (Yes, we’re moving. Again. For the eighth time in the last 4 years. More on that later.)
Now, I was crowing to Cool Mum that we were going to get SO MUCH done the rest of the day. We’d gather up unwanted clothes to take to Salvation Army. We’d buy packing tape from Target and assemble our moving boxes. Then we’d put stuff into those moving boxes. It was going to be a day of responsible and satisfying work. The Cool Fam hopped in the car to get started.
And then the sudden urge for steamed cheeseburgers hit me. You know the feeling. No? Well, it’s a strong one, and there’s only one place to satisfy it: Central Connecticut. Basically, the steamed cheeseburger is a specialty of my hometown, Meriden, CT, and a few surrounding towns. It’s a steamed beef patty smothered in a slab of puffy, melted cheese. I may or may not be drooling right now.
The only catch is that Meriden is over an hour and a half from us. However, I was inspired by my good friends’ dad, Malcolm. I’ve heard stories of how Malcolm would load their family of 8 in the van and drive to North Carolina for breakfast at their favorite place, and then drive home. It was a 9-hour trip one way.
Two hours later, we were eating steamed cheeseburgers.
Then, Cool Mum found us a nice park to visit.
And then, we drove by a church that advertised a Concert happening that night at 5:30. After playing in a Christian band for 10 years, I couldn’t resist the lure of a random concert in a church I’ve never been to that’s almost two hours away from my home. Here’s what happened.
When we finally we got home, we put the kids in their room and collapsed into bed from exhaustion. Or maybe it was steamed cheese overload. That Saturday, no clothes were donated, no moving tape was bought, and no boxes were assembled, but fun was had!