So DH called to say he had to run to the store. He has to pass by me so I asked if he could pick me up. I was craving french fries for some reason. He swings by with one if his cooks (E).
We go to the store then Wendy's. Drive-thru was packed. I ordered the breaded chicken sandwich. E ordered the spicy chicken. Of course when we get to the window we had to wait 3 mins for the food. No big deal. We get the bags and DH decided which bag was who's. E is in the back and wolfs down his food. I'm waiting till I get home.
Almost at home E decided that he must of eaten my sandwich. Yep, sure enough he did. Now I do not do spicy. AT ALL. So I handed him my sandwich because I would have just thrown in out anyway. I wasn't mad at all. I had my french fries. It was all good. Dh drops me off and they head to work.
My door bell just rang. E was there with food. He felt so bad he went to work, grilled up a chicken breast, fried plantains, Caesar salad and made me a PainKiller. If you do not know painkillers are a drink from the British Virgin Islands. It's OJ, Pineapple, cream of coconut and rum. To be fair it's Caribbean night at the club, so he had to cook up that stuff anyway. But not only that, he drove his little scooter all the way here to give it to me.
Looks like not a bad way to spend the 364th day from my last birthday.
What differentiates an average host and a great host is anticipating unexpressed needs and wants of their guests. Just because the want/need is not expressed, doesn't mean it wouldn't be appreciated.