A nice, quiet Saturday morning...

I'm sitting here trying to type while reaching around the warm, furry, purring kitty cat on my lap. Our 10 year old kitty is our firstborn (and I think she's just now FINALLY forgiven us for adding Frodo to the family). Frodo and hubby are both still sleeping. I'm liking this quiet time. I sure haven't had much of it lately with Frodo being on spring break from school and hubby had been on vacation from work prior to that. I can't wait for the routine to kick back in again next week! I've had my coffee. I've had my breakfast. I have no plans for the day. Life is good.

Our trip to Chicago was a hit! On the drive there, we cross the state line and reach a tollway. (You've gotta have an ashtray full of change to drive in Illinois because they make it impossible for a visitor like me to find my way around without using the toll roads. I've tried.) We reach the first toll plaza. I'm following a semi and can't see the signs up ahead very well. I've got my $1 in change ready to throw into the little drive-thru basket. Next thing you know, I'm driving thru the "I-pass" lane, set up only for folks who have that little barcode sticker on their car. I have no choice but to drive thru it! I totally expect lights and whistles and screeching alarms to be going off.... nothing happens....

I'm trying to decide what to do. (I'm too damn nice and honest. Curse that midwestern upbriging!) Do I turn around? (Nowhere to do that.) Do I pull over? (On a highway with people driving 80mph? Suicide.) I have no choice once again, so we keep driving.

We reach the next toll plaza. I drive up to one of the manned booths and surprisingly find a friendly middle-aged gentleman named Garth who hands me a blue envelope. He nicely explains to me that all I have to do is write the following information on the envelope: my license plate number, my name, the location of the toll booth I missed, and the approximate time I drove through the missed toll plaza. Then I can deposit the dollar for the missed toll into the envelope and I won't get a ticket. He collects my toll for the current plaza and wishes me a nice day. I decided "Garth" must've been an alien imposter because toll workers never smile or say more than "hrgnh".

More on the trip later.