Although there is not any lunch food, Doris did buy regular milk. Sly and Doris are lactose intolerant of milk. Not of cheese or ice cream, but of milk, so they drink Lactaid. But she has regular milk for Primo and me and diet Dr Pepper for me, which is very thoughtful, even if it is in the two-liter bottle instead of in cans, which, as anyone who drinks soft drinks knows, is the better way to parcel out individual servings of soda over a multiple-day period.
Me: Why didn’t she get cans?
Primo: She says that all she could find was a 12 pack, and she didn’t want leftovers.
Me: Rather than spend an extra two dollars for cans, she got the big bottle?
He looks at me. I shut up. I am being a bitch.
Doris would say she is reaching out and trying to accommodate me, which she is. Sort of. But it is pretty clear where I stand in Doris’ world: not worth two extra dollars.
OK, she probably didn’t think of it like that. Doris has qualities I don’t like, but she is not unwilling to spend money. She probably thought that she didn’t need to have leftover soda after we left and that’s fair. Just getting for me was nice. It was. Thank you, Doris.
I am grateful for the soda. I open the bottle, fill a glass with stale ice, and pour, hoping the caffeine will banish my headache.