I wouldn’t consider myself an angry person.
I think that most people I know would agree.
But they’d also agree that even though it’s pretty hard to agitate me, once I’m there, it’s going to be a while before I come back. I’m not that great at letting go of things.

I was so pleased with myself last Thursday. I made it to work on time and I was able to get to the grocery store to stock up on food. But I didn’t have time to get deli meat from the actual deli, so instead, I got the pre-packaged kind.

Mistake. Huge mistake. Don’t ever do it.

(This is coming from someone who loves Cheddarwurst and polish sausages and the pepperoni you find in Lunchables, so you know that my tolerance for quality meat is pretty flexible.)

I made myself a kick-ass sandwich. I had the good kind of spicy mustard. I toasted my bread. I sliced tomatoes. I washed and dried the lettuce. I had sandwich pickle spears. I had aged-cheddar, cut just thick enough.

I put the meat on last, almost like an afterthought. I wish I’d forgotten it. The meat was rectangular, very shiny, and not at all the texture of roast beef. I thought, maybe it’ll work, and put it on. I got back to my desk and took a bite. I managed to swallow that bite, but I left the rest of the sandwich on my plate and proceeded to go about my workday. I was ashamed that I threw out 97.5% of a sandwich. But then again, it wasn’t fit for consumption.

It’s been four days. And I’m still furious about it. I’m mad at myself for not taking the extra 45 seconds to get good meat. I’m mad at the people who call that roast beef. I’m mad at the beef for being so horrible. If it had good sense, it would hide in the back of the supermarket refrigerator until well past its sell-by date.

I’ve been craving a sandwich for about a week now. I think tomorrow morning, I’ll try again. Only this time, I’ll make sure I leave enough time to stop by the deli and have them slice me some rather than chancing it with the pedestrian meat in the deli meat aisle. Fingers crossed.