My father flew down to take a look at my new apartment and to have me show him around my new life. We spent a nice day driving in the sunshine. I took him through the town I do laundry and banking and library internetting, to my home town where the only restaurant was closed but a 6 year old girl in a baker's apron waved hello from behind the glass door. So we ate at the Chevron station Subway instead. We drove over roads that wound between prosperous farms with shiny silos to 'highways' that had only one or two cars on them. He was thrilled to buy gas for $1.99 a gallon, and impressed with the State park complete with bridle trails and covered bridge only a few miles from my place.
I gave him a tour of my apartment and when he saw the lump under the covers on my bed, I said, "That's my cat." He was astounded that a cat would get under the covers and sleep there all day. "Isn't she breathing her own carbon dioxide?" he asked. Yes, and for the life of me I don't know why Abby doesn't asphyxiate.
So, dad approves! Tonight we're going out to eat at a nice Italian restaurant in the city with a couple of friends. Best of all, late in the day we finally figured out how the car's GPS works. 'Approaching exit, turn right' the well modulated female voice says. We both laughed at the amazing-ness of how the car knew where we were, and a little unnerved when it stopped letting me program it once the car was underway ("Driver may not program while car is in motion, press enter to have passenger continue...") Scary. I programmed the GPS for the airport so he should be all set for tomorrow's early morning departure for the big airport.
Onward, spaghetti with carbonara sauce awaits!