Lunchmaking Loonies

As I went to the kitchen pantry to reach for some peanut butter for a before-bed snack, I thought to myself, "I should make Eric's lunch for tomorrow." Since I've been hitting the sack around 9 p.m., my evening lunchmaking routine has been a bit interrupted. Making lunch for my husband everyday is a little June Cleaver, but it's the least I can do since I don't believe in ironing (or for that matter, feeling responsible for 100% of household chores.)

I looked in the fridge and thought, turkey or bologna? I went with bologna.
So I also grabbed a slice of cheese and the upside down squeezable mayo.
For those of you who don't know, I can't stand mayonnaise. I liked it when I was a little girl and would make cheese and mayo sandwiches at my grandmother's house all the time, but something turned my "mayo" switch off as a teenager and now I can't stand it....or so I thought.

I unwrapped the cheese, put the bologna on top, grabbed a slice of bread and squeezed the mayo out. Even though the squeezable bottle had a nice slit perfect for sandwich making, it wasn't enough to satisfy my Type A personality, so I had to grab a knife to spread the mayo perfectly on what was sure to be the best bologna and cheese sandwich my husband had ever had.

But then, something strange happened. As I was spreading the mayo, I started to long for the taste of it. I thought, this is crazy...you hate mayo. I topped off the sandwich with the newly mayonnaised piece of bread and just stared at the glorious sandwhich I'd just made. Then, it dawned on me--why not take a bite of this magnificent creation? I mean, I'd just spent the time making it and I knew Eric wouldn't mind one bite missing of his sandwich anyway. So, I did. And it was amazing. And then, I took another. Pretty soon, I found myself wanting to finish off the entire thing.

Then I realized, that if I ate the precious bologna, cheese and mayo sandwich, I'd have to make another one, something that would delay my date with my pillow. I also remembered why I went to the pantry in the first place--to eat a tablespoon of peanut butter to hopefully relieve my 4 am wake up calls feeling starved to death. I also remembered reading an important little tidbit about cold cuts carrying a nasty little thing called listeria and how dangerous it can be for pregnant women to consume. I sadly put the two-bite missing, listeria-laden sandwich in a ziplock bag. I put Eric's lunch in the fridge and looked unhappily at the peanut butter I was about to consume. It was no substitute for a bologna, cheese and mayo sandwich though.