Lunch is simple for me, whether it’s a work day or the weekend. A sandwich and a piece of fruit in season, maybe a diet Coke or a cup of coffee, and I’m set for the afternoon. But not yesterday. Fool that I am, I sprinted out of the house with toddler, husband, several bags, DH’s briefcase, DD’s lunchbox … and not my work bag which contained my lunch.
Heck, I can manage without the bits of paperwork I trudge back and forth from home to work and back again (or vice versa) as long as I have my handbag (huge and red, can be used as an offensive weapon in a pinch). But I was a sad thing without my sandwiches.
I went to the student union to buy a calzone and tried a tandoori chicken calzone. Yummy, far too much hassle for me to make at home, and now I know it’s far too messy! Bah, my black shirt was quickly adorned with five splodges of tandoori sauce mingled with fresh tomato juice.
Today was a bit better. I was determined to have my sandwich and I remembered both it and my bag. However, I’d forgotten that I’d loaded my bag with heavy things and the poor sandwich, protected only by clingwrap, was bent, twisted and tortured by the time I thought to release it at lunchtime. It was delicious anyway.