1-Star

Today, Lottie and Gigs ran errands with me where we visited

BBW to get Ollie some

welcome-back-to-the-world smells, soaps, sprays, and lotions. 

Gigs helped me choose. 

I told Gigs I'd buy him some if he took a girl out on a date this week.
He said he would. I asked who he was going to ask out, 

and he said his motorcycle.

After our final stop, at the pet store for crickets

for Gigs' critters, we decided to have dinner.

We chose a pizza place that our family

 regulars and loves, except this time, it was the worst.  

Do businesses not train employees anymore?  
I ordered our pizza from a girl who looked 

like she was about to kill and bury me herself.  

After we paid, I was notified that 

 they were out of tomatoes, basil, and salad.  
Because I am an introverted-non-confrontational chicken, 

I wrote a 1-star Google review.

I had my big-girl-boss pants on when I wrote it.

But, you know that time after the lights are out and you are laying 

your head on the pillow, ready with your first-class ticket to dreamland

 but all you think are ALL the things

you did wrong, or you didn't do, where you dropped the ball, 

who you didn't talk to, the e-mails you ignored, the child you didn't

connect with, and the dishwasher you forgot to start.

Or is that just me?

Anyway, I felt terrible about the 1-star review I wrote and SENT.

*UPDATE, Pizza join reached out: