Monday night at about 5:53 (7 minutes till closing) the draftsperson sent me an e-mail saying the plans were ready and on his desk. First thing Tuesday morning I called to make sure he was in and then drove on out there and picked up the plans. I left the blue tightly-rolled pages just the way they were, banded tightly with a rubber band.
Even though I should have been on my way to a peaceful ride to work, I rushed to Town and filed my plans for the permit. I couldn't stop my obsessive-self from taking that back road over through the reservoir cove. I took the turns and pushed my 4-cylinder up the hills.
Parked and inside, I was relieved to set the plans in the hand of my old high school friend who works in the building department.
I stopped at the little camper-trailer food-stand and got the best, yummiest, egg, cheese, and minute-steak on a grilled-roll sandwich.
Was it the food that tasted to good?