I make my husband's lunch every day and send him off to work with a grocery bag full of snacks, leftovers, and a drink. He comes home and thanks me for the lunch, often telling a story about about how excited he was for whatever “surprise” was in his lunch bag. Sometimes, I tease him a little by asking what I made him for lunch. I had no idea where this little tease would lead!
“Baby, the lunch you made me today was so good!” said my sweet husband.
“Really? Yay! What did I make you?”
“You made me a sandwich and it was so good I couldn't believe it!”
“. . . . I didn't make you a sandwich.”
“Yeah, you did!”
“No, I made you spaghetti.”
“No, it was a bologna sandwich!”
“Baby, I don't buy bologna. I think you ate someone else's lunch!”
“Well, I don't know what kind of meat it was, but it definitely was my lunch! It was in a grocery bag with that special trail mix you made for me.”
“Oh. Well, I guess it was your lunch, but I can't even remember when the last time I made you a sandwich for lunch. I think that was, like, 3 weeks old.”
“Well, it still tasted good! In fact, it was the best sandwich ever!”
“... ”
Thus began the epic tale of the lunch of indeterminate age.
* * *
I've been looking for a way to tell day-to-day stories that don't quite fit in Twitter, so I may post more stories like this in the future. I'm finding it difficult to write fiction these days, so please accept some reality instead!
