Ordered at Wendy’s for lunch today: spicy chicken sandwich, side salad with blue cheese dressing, biggie diet coke. Received: spicy chicken sandwich, biggie fries, side salad with ranch dressing, biggie iced tea.

Luckily, I realized how badly they’d fucked up before I got very far from the restaurant and turned around. Which was a big pain in the ass. The chick working the register inside could see the pissed-off-ness on my face, I think, but that didn’t stop her from asking three times what kind of dressing I’d wanted.

The irony is that just last week I was thinking to myself that I should write a letter to Wendy’s headquarters, ’cause at that particular location, they’ve only fucked up my order once in ten months.

That would now be twice.

From now on, I guess I’ll not pull away from the drive-up window until I’ve slowly and carefully checked to see that each item in the bag matches what I’ve ordered. I used to hate those people when I worked at McDonald’s, but it’s certainly understandable to me as an adult.

The realtor who came by last night didn’t stay for long. He took a tour of the house, made some notes, and chatted with us for a few minutes. He’s going to, as he put it, "Run some numbers" and get back to us later in the week. He was pretty nice, unlike some of the other realtors we’ve dealt with. A few weeks ago, we went to look at a house Fred found on Valley MLS, and the realtor was incredibly annoying, following us from room to room and chattering up an obnoxious storm. Realtors should be available to answer questions or to point out things, but other than that, they should shut the hell up.

When we had the house on the market two years ago, the realtor had an assistant named Eric who had the biggest, gooniest laugh in the world, and rather than being funny, it was simply annoying, because he’d pull that laugh out for any and all occasions.

We had another realtor come today, and it was funny – my opinion of him before he arrived was that he was a slick salesman, just from seeing his website and his ads on TV. Fred was all excited to have him come, because he’s always seemed very soft-spoken and sincere in his ads. When he left, Fred thought he was a pushy bastard, and I thought he was a go-getter.

We drove around for an hour or so after dinner, looking at houses and seeing what’s for sale in the area. The problem is that Fred wants a house that’s 1,800 or more square feet, on an acre or more of land, in or near subdivisions with sidewalks, and preferably fairly new. All for $100,000, and that’s just not going to happen, certainly not in this area. When I pointed that out to him, he got all defensive: "What, you’re changing your mind, after we’ve been driving around for an hour??"

I keep going back and forth between refinancing the house we have and staying here, or finding a smaller house on more land. I honestly think in the end we’d be better off in a smaller house on more land, because we can pay off the mortgage – and our cars! – quicker, and Fred retiring at 50 starts to seem more like a real possibility.

Ah well. Y’all know you’ll be amongst the first to know however we decide!