Wednesday Whine

Here’s what I like on my deli sandwiches:  one slice of american cheese, one slice of tomato, one or two pieces of lettuce, a few bits of red onion, a few cherry peppers if you have them, a little mayo. That’s it. I’m flexible on the bread type. I’m a go-with-the-bread-flow kinda person. Easy right? Not easy. Most helpful deli sandwich makers like to give me extra. To make up for the lackluster sandwich that they’ve deemed I’m subjecting myself to.

I usually get 10 pieces of cheese. Miles of lettuce and atleast 6 slices of tomato. Or! They try and put grilled veggies on there to make up for the meat. Outrageous.

When I was younger, so much younger than today…I would let it go. Like Elsa. I would take whatever kind of sandwich they would give me and then spend my precious lunch hour dissecting all the extra goo off of it.

Not anymore! I’m over 40 and hungry! Now, like the bitch they assume I am anyway, I tell them exactly what I want. One slice of cheese. Take the other off please. One slice of tomato. You heard me. One. Yes I know the cost of the sandwich won’t be less but I don’t care. I want what I want. No cucumbers, no olives, no nothin’.

Then they slice up my little sandwich, do a tsk tsk and hand it over. And you know what, it’s delicious. It’s not too cheesy. Not too soggy from all that tomato. Not too lettuce”y”. Perfect. To me.

Hope you had exactly what you wanted for lunch today. Fight the power!

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Nobody cares. Work harder.

Well that’s not exactly true. Lots of people care, but I really should work harder. Here’s how I came to this aha! moment (I speak your name Oprah!).
I was in the middle of a whining tirade this morning, complaining about the usual stuff people complain about (oh my job, my house , my blah blah blah) when a good friend said,” nobody cares, work harder.
Geez. Fine.
There are days when this advice would have made me crawl up and go back to bed, or cry in a corner. There are days when I would have said,” F you! I deserve to vent and fume.”
But today, it’s what I needed to hear. There’s no time for tucking into self-pity. What am I an infant? I need to be soothed? Come on! I’m no martyr. Atleast 4 times a day I almost buy a vanilla latte . How bad could things be? Answer: not bad at all.
So tuck that in your pocket or purse for a rainy day. Don’t say I never gave you anything. Good night.