The Moment of Truth

I gave Beth a ride home today. Even though she only lives about half a mile away, she insisted on getting me a sandwich at Safeway to pay for the gas or something. Who am I to turn down free food?

I've never gotten a sandwich at Safeway before, and had no idea what any of them are like. So I just kind of guessed on every question they asked me. "What kind of sandwich do you want?" "Um... I don't know. How about a spicy one?" "Northwest Chicken?" "Sure." "What kind of bread." "Uh... that one." "You want it warmed?" "Sure. Why not." Whatever.

So I dropped Beth off and came home to try my sandwich. Set it reverently on the table, removed my gloves and jacket, seated myself in my Throne of Awesome--I mean, chair--and carefully and respectfully unwrapped it.

"And now for the moment of truth!" I said in a deep, melodramatic voice. I held the sandwich up to the light to add to the effect. "Laaaaaaaaaaaa!" I devoured it like a ravenous wolf, then sat back to think about how boring it is acting silly when there's no one around to laugh at your silliness but yourself.

And then I realized that, as a matter of fact, I hadn't even touched the sandwich, but had imagined the whole thing. The sandwich is still sitting beside the keyboard, unwrapped.

Must be cabin fever.