Slow Rolls

Its a long, slow, traffic-jam filled drive to San Diego, and by the time we pull up to the hotel, it’s clear that my period has arrived and announced itself in a fantastic fashion. I ditch Aaron and Nisa and head straight for our room. In the shower I wash, rinse and wring, laughing to myself that here I am, doing my laundry in a hotel bathroom, and I havent even begun the trail yet!
Later, we walk Nisa around the perimeter of the hotel, cajoling her into taking a poo, so we can sleep through the night without having to take her back out. Aaron dances about with the newly filled poo bag, and when he pretends to fling the bag at me, i say, “Slow your roll, dude.”
“What? Slow my roll?” He says.
“That’s right. Slow it.”
“That sounds like a legitimate saying.”
“Um. It is.”
“You didn’t just make it up?”
“Um. NO. People say it all the time.”
“In what DECADE?”
“This one, dumbass. Its like, a popular saying said by popular people.”
“O.K.,” he says, like he doesnt believe me. We are tired, so our clever banter will continue like this for hours until one of us falls asleep first. And that person will be me. Hopefully.