Yesterday, at work.
“Cheryl? Is that your fish I smell?”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
I like to eat lunch in my cubicle. It’s quiet, it’s well-lit, and the company can’t be beat. But my neighbors often get to experience my food in not always welcome ways. Yesterday I tried not to stink up the whole building – I used the nearest microwave to heat my perch – but the smell still lingered. Note to self: Eat fish on Friday so you won’t be tempted to bring it to work the next day.
Last night we ate out. I insisted on Chinese, knowing I could control myself better if pie were not on the menu. And I did good. A few grapes beforehand, to take the edge off my appetite, a nice bowl of hot and sour soup, and half my entree of cashew chicken, hold the rice. I was too full for ice cream, too. Mission accomplished.
My one question about Chinese food is, Are button mushrooms really Chinese? Or are they just a cheap alternative to the real thing?
Now that I think about it, the celery in my dish was the regular old stuff I eat with cream cheese. No napa? Or Chinese cabbage? Or whatever passes for Chinese celery these days?
Inquiring minds want to know.
