An Impasse

We're at an impasse. 

It looks just like a 3-way stop. 

"He could go straight...Or he might turn right..." I'm trying to figure out what this old fella is going to do.

One-one thousand, two-one thousand...

I wish I was a mind reader (for about the ten millionth time).  "What are you doing?" I ask out loud.

"Just go, Mom," my 14 year old directs from the passenger seat.  I want to roll my eyes, but dig deep for some self-control.

"A blinker would be nice...," I'm thinking right out of my mouth now, (eight-one thousand) "...please drive, sir..." ten-one thousand, eleven-one thousand.

The clouds are drifting at a snail's pace, but faster than we are traveling right now.  People are crossing a ways in front of us.  Sam's is a busy place on this Saturday afternoon...twelve one-thousand, thirteen one-thousand.

"Mom.  I.  Am.  Starv-" he must think he needs to intervene here.

"He's turning, he's turning!" I interrupt.

My right foot lifts off the break as we start to turn right down the parking lot aisle.  We coast pass the cart return and turn right into a spot.

Time to get some shopping done!