I was a bad, bad girl…

I was going a little stir crazy at work yesterday and felt like I needed to get out for some air.  And then I did the unthinkable.  My brain went all stupid and I drove to a fast food joint and decided to order some lunch and eat inside, to catch up on a book I had started.

Mind you, I cannot even remember the last time I sat down and actually ate inside a fast food restaurant.  Maybe the early 90’s? Not to mention, I only eat fast food a handful of times or less each year.  It’s bad for you and I always forget how shitty I feel afterward, and it just plain sucks really.  Sure, you imagine it sounds like a good idea, until after you’ve eaten it. By then it’s too late. Your hands feel dirty and greasy and you can hardly wait to get to a sink and scrub them down (and maybe puke). And you’re sure your clothes and hair smell like an old tub of fryer oil (and they do).  And the food sits there in your stomach, like a lead brick.  All day…

My short drive over to the burger joint itself was enough to make my stomach churn.  I thought it might be a refreshing change to get out, instead of always eating at my desk. But I work in the “hood” as we call it, and the scenery is nothing short of depressing when you’re used to living in the country.


So I arrived at the burger joint, and placed my order with the cheery “order takers” (is that what you call them?) They really were cheery though, in an almost sinister way. Maybe they took pleasure in knowing they were serving up body-wrecking death food to all the unassuming patrons who visited each day? Or maybe they were just happy to have a job.  I’m going to assume it was the latter…

Then, I turned to find a place to sit and noticed I was the only one in the restaurant.  I had assumed it would be filled with retired, gray-haired patrons meeting for coffee and lunch. Maybe they’re more of a breakfast crowd, or maybe they too have caught on to how evil fast food is?


Either way, as I sat there and half-read my book, half ate my “death food,” and half listened to all the people who came in and ordered, I noticed how the “order takers” called at least one of every three customers by name.  That made me wonder how many people out there ate fast food every day of the week, or even once every week for that matter.  No wonder we’re such a fat and sick country.


After I finished eating, I decided not to beat myself up too bad for my poor lunch choice, on the basis that earlier that morning I created a most lovely fresh salad of cucumber, tomato and asparagus, all from the garden, and then topped with fresh parmesan and homemade balsamic dressing.



Of which, I covered and put in the fridge, so that when I returned home from work and after finishing barn chores, I would have a nicely chilled healthy salad for dinner.


I also reminded myself (and thanked God) the scenery would be a lot more pleasant on my drive home…  ~A

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