Sunday, July 20

that's Mister Pot Roast to you.

I got sick. A horrid stomach virus whose details shall not be discussed here.

But upon my recovery I bounced back with a rabid desire for some disgusting food. We chose Ihop. I felt like I hadn't been out in the world in ages (perhaps because in my mind, Ihop = 1986.) The menu looked gigantic, daunting. The lighting harsh. It felt dangerous.

I ended up ordering a mildly healthy spinach salad but ate half of Mr. Lentil's strawberry cheesecake pancakes. For a brief magical moment I really wanted the Senior Pot Roast, thinking it said SeƱor Pot Roast and not just tough meat for the elderly. In conclusion: maybe I should not have been allowed out of the house yet. But I feel fine.