I’ve been fighting the urge for cheese fries for at least two months now. Sixty plus days of no, you don’t really want cheese fries, go find something to eat as I pushed down those pesky cravings that made me want to climb a wall. There may or may not have been some weepy Lord, I just want some cheesy potato wedges dipped in ranch dressing, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?? moments in there. Not saying either way.
Last night I gave myself permission to indulge. I had lots of reasons, none of which I’ll bother going into here because seriously, it should be enough just to decide to order cheese fries and be done with it. That’s not actually enough in my life, mind you, but regardless…I talked myself into it. I ordered the fries.
I should have known better.
You know how the more you put something off the bigger the build up, and the bigger the build up the more excited you are to finally be getting – in my case – salty, cheesy, bacon-y goodness? It’s amped to an even greater level when you know – like I do – that it’ll be months before you allow this particular gastrointestinal indulgence again. So given the build up and given the cheesiness and given the wait to come you’re sure, without a doubt, that these cheese fries will be the best damn cheese fries EVER.
Until BrightSide showed up with a half empty container. Where were my cheese fries, man? All I wanted was some stinking cheese fries!
You know things are rough when you want to cry over an appetizer, but that’s what you get when you don’t deal with your sh*t.
It’s been almost four years since my mom passed away and it’s been a hard week. I’m sad, but when you’re a grownup with kids and pets and a house to run the world doesn’t stop spinning because you’re down. Turns out some kinds of sad trump even the cheesiest of cheese fries.
Edited to “almost four years” and to add:
The year my mom died she went into the hospital for an infection in early January. Despite their best efforts mom didn’t respond to treatment so we moved her to hospice care. We lost her about a week later. January is a blur to me now – the whole month feels like one big trigger.