Addendum To: Where The Fuck Is She?

So I texted ****e* around 2.  She texted around 2:15 she'll be there in half an hour.  She suggested I leave with the door unlocked so she can just go in and start cleaning.  I thought about that, especially when she said she was taking at shit at a quarter to 3, but I decided to wait because she lives about 40 minutes away.

But then it's 3:30, and I haven't seen her and I haven't heard from her.  I asked for an ETA.  She says she's 27 minutes away.  So at 3:45 I really did say fuck this, shut the door but kept it unlocked, and just fuckin' left for Clear Lake.  ****e* said she would've gotten there earlier if she had known I was going down to Iowa, but I thought I made that clear when she initially postponed on Thursday.

Whatever.  I checked in with her at a gas station at 4:15.  I said my piece about the mix-up and that was that.  ****e* said she got there at 4.  Going to the The Day The Music Died Memorial took a lot longer than I thought, three hours as opposed to two.  And I don't like gravel roads, and I hated the humidity while I walked from the parking lot to the gravesite.  But I got there, a shrine embedded right in the middle of a cornfield.  Wish I could've stayed longer, but it was hot and it was getting late.

The nearest gas station to the memorial had 88 gas for $2.78-9/gal., 12-3 cents cheaper than I can get it here.  Still had to gas up before dropping off the rental (and by the way, I wanted to pre-pay so I could send the car back as close to the full line without going over, so I could save myself some money.  But six bucks brought me up short, goddammit, so I had to put my credit card to make sure it did go past the full line).  Anyway, after eating at Taco Bell and freaking out because one of the water leak pucks went off, I finally got home to see ****e* cleaning away.  (I think a hose in the boiler room overflowed because she was using hot water to wash out the kitchen sink.  Is that normal?)  And, per usual, she left everything spotless.  There were marks in the upstairs toilet I couldn't rub out, but she did.  Finally, she let me touch and even bite into her new tits.  She stopped me when I dropped my pants to start touching myself to her, though.  Oh, well.  Can't win them all.  And she's one hell of a cleaning lady, so I will once again tolerate her aloofness and tardiness next time.