Ode To Sandwich

The sandwich wasn’t even that good, honestly. Mystery cold cuts and a white sauce I assume was mayo but refused to really acknowledge on a puffy, whole wheat bun, with a light sprinkling of carrot shreds. I think what made this sandwich appealing was the fact that I didn’t have to make it. Also it was free, leftover and snatched up by moi earlier this afternoon post-exec meeting in my office. I saw it sitting there, lonely and neglected on the now-almost-empty tray, and I knew it was meant to be. I knew I would be hungry later. So I bit off one corner of it, to ward off the forever scavenging IT staff, and put it in the fridge until my tummy was ready for lunch #2.

And now it’s gone. All that anticipation, plus the anxiety that someone would ignore my bite claim and usurp me, just to have a few leftover bits of bun and wondering if it was actually tasty or not.

I had thought to tie this little anecdote into some kind of life lesson and moral thesis, but now I realize it was just a little blurb from the backwards part of my brain. I’ve been reading interesting (see: depressing) articles in www.salon.com all day and I suppose I had the urge to do some reporting of my own.

It’s no doubt the most interesting thing YOU’VE read today, I know. But I think my Ode To Sandwich is a better endeavor than my mid-afternoon day dream about interviewing past lovers while in disguise to see what they really thought about me. Conclusion: I’m ready for the weekend.

And on a completely unrelated note, I am currently accepting ideas for realistic disguises.