My first real heartbreak. Brace yourself.

[I have some awesome things to say about the weekend...later.]

I was having a pleasant Sunday afternoon walking the mall...notice I said WALKING, not so much SHOPPING...you have to have money to do that. Needless to say, invisible jobs don't pay well. So now let me back up.

Contrary to our air-conditioner's thinking, it is not the middle of winter. But you would think so by the way it insist on blowing out HEAT during these lovely October sweat-fests. The air is set on COOL, somewhere in the upper 60s, yet we get HEAT blown through our vents. The simple solution would seem to be just to cut it OFF. You would think. But the dern blasted thing won't cut off. IT WON'T CUT OFF. We are stewing in our own filth. (Which has the potential to make my friend Katherine gag if she ever reads this because she can't even stand the thought of taking baths and sitting in the dirty water.)
So after church I opted not to take a trip to the burning nunnery (we live on convent ave...it's ok, laugh it up ;) we've decided just to own the hilarity of that) and to spend it in the air conditioning some place where I would have plenty to look at and a place to sit and read for a while. So I happened upon the Mall at Green Hills which conveniently has both. :) My afternoon was full of looking at lovely dress pants and jeans 3 times as expensive as the ones I had on, shirts that wouldn't cover my BIG TOE, and way cute cards at the Papyrus store I have recently fallen in love with. Cutest cards ever. I refrained. And my wallet thanked me. (Until I went to Starbucks of course...I would hope that would just be an understood given though.) Life was good and cool...I was killing time...(ran into 2 of my 3 roommates who were undoubtedly avoiding the same thing I was)...my feet hurt, but I didn't care (I had Starbucks to walk off)...

And then IT happened.

I went to Panera. (Again, choosing to stay out of the house for dinner prolonged another work-out sized sweat job just to pour a bowl of cereal.)
I walked up to the counter.
I asked for a cinnamon crunch bagel. And the unthinkable came out of that sweet girl's mouth.
"I'm sorry we're out".
Politely I tilted my head toward her and said "Hmmm?" (I could not have heard her right.)

"We're out...of cinnamon crunch bagels."

Restrain yourself Abby. It is not her fault. Was the Lord telling me not to eat a bagel? Save my hips the trouble? Surely not.
But this was the day I learned trying to substitute a phony for the real thing is never a good idea. The Lord can not be replaced, and neither can cinnamon crunch bagels.
Mocha-chip is just NOT the same.