On Sunday morning I sneaked around the house to protect precious little time alone. I’m awesome at this time-alone/echo-time thing: I showered and did some server correcting before … washing up a load of dishes, making myself breakfast (the rare chances I have to eat any food without being asked for any, asked to make someone else some, or stared down by 4 drooling beasts I jump on) and putting together a take-along lunch for Kevin, Angel and I that afternoon.
Because I don’t like to eat in the car, when we left later in the day I decided to leave my lunch behind (and also forgot their bananas and chips) and I would have it for dinner instead. As we got errands out of the way I grew rather hungry and thought fondly of the sandwich waiting at home for me. I almost caved and grabbed taco bell- but I knew I just had to make it the 40 minutes home, put away the house-payment worth of groceries and then I’d be able to finally dive into a sandwich that was quickly becoming mythical. Mm.
Is anyone harkening back to Ross Gellar’s gone crazy? Remember when one of his colleagues threw away most of HIS SANDWICH?! You better recognize.
Finally, just about 7 p.m., I was done with everything I needed out of the way to sit down and have my lunch for dinner. Portioning potato chips into baggies for picnics I sat down with my glorious sandwich, chips for me and a caffeine-free CocaCola. I was being very quiet while all of the kids enjoyed a game. I didn’t want to share. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to be looked at. Veda drooled on my thigh. It was as close as I was going to get to alone.
And then I bit into my sandwich.
And it was NOT my sandwich.
I had accidentally grabbed Kevin’s extra, believing that he had eaten both I had made for him I thought there was only one turkey sandwich in the fridge (he’d decided on one turkey and one of the ‘just in case’ peanut butter and jellies I try to keep on hand). But I was wrong. I wad dead wrong. This sandwich… this one had yellow mustard (I prefer spicy brown), this had two types of turkey (I only wanted the chipotle seasoned), this had no spinach (I think he’s allergic?) and this… this had MIRACLE WHIP instead of REAL MAYONAISE.
I put it down and considered the possibilities. It was food. I was hungry. He couldn’t eat it right now, and I had just taken a huge and unladylike bite that I did not really want him to see the outline of.
I ate two chips.
I filled my cup of ice to the brim with bubbly soda.
I knew I couldn’t eat both. I resigned myself to this abomination now and a soggy sandwich tomorrow for lunch (it still turned out better than Evil Sandwich). And like Pinkalicious and one more pink cupcake, I ate it.
That terrible experience behind me I’ve been able to move on to better food, even meeting some nice sandwiches along the way.
Angel and I are enjoying the Spring for all it’s worth.
Soon, it will be too hot to even look out the windows!