I have a bargaining thing that I do with the cheeseburger at Smashburger. It is a wrong food, bad, I am bad to want it, it makes me feel bad, but I don’t believe there is another food I love so much, that gives me so much pleasure in the mouth. So I try to say no, back away, get the chicken sandwich, as if that’s any more likely to keep me alive. I know that I am more likely to say yes if I wait and wait and don’t eat lunch until very late in the day. Today I stalled lunch with an orange, a packet of almonds left over from my last airplane flight. I asked colleagues for alternatives. I tried to walk past. But hey. Why not. Really. The world’s about to die, in part because of Smashburger cheeseburgers. I did get the child size, though. There is some good in that, slightly less dead cow?

I ate the salad K. made me and the chips that A. brought while sitting in a chair on the sand under an umbrella, watching the Atlantic Ocean.

According to my Facebook memories, yesterday was the four year anniversary trip to the Smashburger across the street from the library. I wasn’t at work so had to wait to celebrate until today. It’s as buttery and delicious as ever.

A. made pizza in her apartment with central air and I stopped by and we ate and talked and talked and talked and talked.

O. had to use the bathroom and there’s no bathroom at the Starbucks at the Fulton Street Mall so we ducked into the Shake Shack instead and you had to buy something to get the bathroom code so really I was roped into it and there was nothing I could do I had to eat a cheeseburger for lunch.

By now I know the transfer situation at the Salt Lake City airport so well that I knew I had just enough time to dash in and out of the McDonalds line if I wanted to have enough to eat for lunch.

I ate a turkey sandwich at my desk while working through the weeding list. Both were a bit dry.

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