On the phone with SH, who has just finished a customer visit in Chicago and is waiting for the rain to stop so he can go into a Panera and eat and work for a while before driving home.
Me: What? [Did I accidentally leave my emergency Pop Tarts in the glove box or under the driver's seat instead of in the trunk where they belong -- close enough for when I need them but not so close that I am tempted every time I stop at a red light?]
SH: There's a tiny GRAPE on the floor.
Near a wine field. Actually, near a winery at the end of a very wind-y road for which I had to take a dramamine that just happened to be in my purse even though I hadn't taken dramamine since I lived in South America 1993-1995.
Me: Oh yeah. I was eating grapes in the car yesterday.
SH: That's disgusting. The only good use for grapes is to be converted to wine.