They are having an ice cream truck come to my work tomorrow. I don’t know why. It’s just what every adult woman needs: an opportunity to buy ice cream in a parking lot.
I don’t know who is having trouble getting ice cream. There is a fucking Quik Trip across the street. There’s a grocery store across the other street. For that matter, there’s a daycare in our very own parking lot, if we were really desperate we could make a run on that. Cause you know they got some ice cream for all those little babies and toddlers. We should have no trouble acquiring ice cream.
Still it’s nice.
They said they might get a barbecue truck in the future. Now that is something I will stand in line for. Unless it’s shitty. I’ll let someone else go ahead of me and then I can smell it and look at it and decide if I wouldn’t rather go to Panera for the one millionth time.
Today’s stream of conciousness was brought to you by the the word “magnet”. The workers will be drawn to the ice cream truck like a magnet. That’s what makes me think of it. If you were wondering. Story checks out.