the sheep has returned to the flock

I’ve tried hard to hold firm to my recent decision to pack my lunch instead of eating out every day. Along with this, I’ve tried hard to convince myself that the South Beach Diet variety of microwavable meals I purchased were just as satisfying as a greasy burger and fries would have been.

This lasted for two days when, unable to fool myself into thinking that the reheated food contained therein was actually good, I gave up on the whole South Beach lifestyle. I’m beginning to understand the concept of ‘diet’ meals. You choose not to eat rather than endure the horrible tasting food, which is like dieting by default.

The very next day, I decided to make my own lunch…ham and cheese on Wonder Bread…which pretty much exhausted my knowledge of food preparation. The finishing touch to this culinary creation was the brown paper bag which, with a flourish, I threw the sandwich into.

After driving to work, my sandwich was then deposited in the employee lunchroom refrigerator…a communal area that I had yet to experience. I opened the door, prepared to toss my lunch bag onto one of the shelves, and realized that lunch space real estate is perhaps even more valuable than finding a prime parking spot in the office lot.

No empty shelf space was visible, every square inch being packed with containers of various shapes and sizes. I was forced to do some rearranging and realized that what was housed within the office refrigerator was a museum of 21st century foodstuff products. I ended up clearing a small spot in between a bottle of Paul Newman’s Ranch Dressing (which expired on 3/03) and a Tupperware container that had Frank’s half-eaten lunch sealed inside…which was odd because Frank left the company six months ago.

In my expedition for a few inches of clear shelf space, I also came across a bottle of Red Hot, a banana that had long since gone from yellow to brown and was now well into the decomposition process, and moldy dregs of a yogart container which had long since been forgotten about.

My small little spot suited me just fine until noon when I noticed that an odd green liquid had dripped all over my brown paper bag. Upon closer inspection, I realized that on the shelf directly above my bag was a pickle jar which had been knocked over on its side. A jar from which, now in a supine position, a trickle of pickle juice had leaked onto my lunch.

Extracting my soggy bag from the refrigerator, I was forced to admit that my experiment with lunch packing was over. I pitched the now pickled ham and cheese sandwich into the trash and headed out to my car.

I drove down the street and, upon seeing those glorious golden arches…much like the gates to heaven must look to the recently departed…I knew that I had been converted back to fast foodism. I once was lost, but now am found.