The last couple months, Chris and I have opted for a healthier lifestyle. This includes (but is not limited to) running more, lifting free weights, dancing via the Kinect, reading more books, making more goals, traveling, and of course the most unfortunate of them all: eating better.
I like food. A lot. Sweet, salty, bitter, rich...really anything delicious. A salad is something you will seldom see me order in a restaurant (by seldom I mean never). It's so unsatisfying. Even with lots of stuff on top, it's still just rabbit food. Flavorless, gritty leaves.
BUT. With this new-found life we'd decided to gallantly adopt, I thought I'd try to recover from my hate of salad by making one topped with seasoned grilled chicken, pickled beets, baby corn and other favorite yummies. If I can dress it up enough maybe I will forget its true identity?
Wide-eyed and optimistic, I waltzed into the store and plucked all the ingredients for a salad that was bound to be life changing. I went through the self checkout, grabbed my bags, put my cart away and headed out to the car. A woman chased after me, arms in the air, yelling "Ma'am! Maaaa'aaam!" (Sidenote: I hate being a ma'am.) She was an employee (a seriously dedicated one) at the store--she noticed I left my lettuce in the cart. I checked my receipt and sure enough, I didn't even pay for it.
Subconscious slip? Maybe somewhere deep in my soul I thought that if I "forgot" the lettuce Chris would be as relieved as I was and would offer to get (greasy, delicious, salad-less) takeout from the Mexican restaurant down the street. But the leafy green medley found its pompous way into my grasp once again. So I went inside, paid for it and headed home.
I got to the house, took off my coat and boots, set down my bags and greeted my husband and hyper dog. I started grilling the chicken and compiling the salad toppings. I couldn't find the lettuce. WHERE IS THE DAMN LETTUCE THIS TIME I shouted. Chris came in the room, saw that I was pissed, and helped me look for the lettuce. "Here it is! You put it in the fridge already!"
"Uh, no. That's the salad that we never ate from TWO WEEKS AGO."
The lettuce that was already in the fridge had been my attempt at making amends with rabbit food weeks ago. Clearly it went well.
I examined it and tried to decide if it was okay enough for human consumption. It looked soggy, the edges were already browned. No-go. I went to the garage and frantically checked inside, outside and underneath my car. No salad to be found.
"HOLY $&*@%$ I left the ___&*^$ at the store. AGAIN."
Chris offered to go back and get it. Not to get Mexican food or some sort of drive-through supper in a sack. This guy is stronger than I thought.
I got in the car, slammed my door and headed back to the store. I was pissed. Just so angry with myself for being so absent-minded (or subliminally stupid, thinking I could avoid this salad saga). I found the woman who rang up my lettuce the last time I left it. I tapped her shoulder and said with humility "Did I leave my salad here again?"
"Yeeesss..you sure did. You must not want it that bad."
That woman knows me so well.