A Frozen Burrito and Cheap Shiraz – a day in the life…

I came home the other night, to (once again) nothing, except my cat. I’ve had her for two months and she still has no name other than baby, honey, darlin’ and myriad of other sugary southern idioms that show affection. At least she still saunters over and rubs against me nonchalantly, as if to say ‘Did you go somewhere?’

Finally, Friday night, which means staying up late, standing at the easel, painting as much as I can before crashing onto the bed. I’d been home for about 2 hours and began to hear that familiar rumble in my stomach. So to the ‘cubbard’ (that’s Southern for ‘cupboard’) I went. Hmmm… Soup? Too hot outside. Mac-n-cheese? No milk. Cereal? Again, no milk? Ramen – if I see another bowl of… Well, nothing there. To the fridge… and not much there either. Let’s check the freezer. Hey, a frozen burrito! Now, I like shredded cheese, sour cream, and salsa on mine thank you very much! These three ingredients make the microwaved cardboard marginally more palatable. Unfortunately, the fridge holds none of these items. Off with the wrapper and into the microwave for two minutes, thirty seconds… and voila! cardboard wrapped goodness! Grab a fork and throw a slice of cheese on it – not as good as shredded, but it will have to do.

So the only thing left to do is grab a glass and some ice and… You have got to be kidding me..! Where did my Cokes go? Ok, here’s a sidebar. Coke in the South does not necessarily mean Coca Cola. Here’s the scenario: Two friends driving down the road in a truck (It’s the South, everyone drives a truck). Driver is thirsty and pulls over at the convenience store for a ‘Coke’. Driver asks his buddy ‘You wanna a Coke?’ Buddy says ‘Yeah, I’ll take one’. Driver says ‘Whatcha want?’ Buddy thinks for a moment and says ‘Get me a Mellow Yellow’. In the South there is always two parts to the question, ‘You wanna Coke’.

…And back to the dilemma at hand, no Coke. I could go to the store and get a drink, which means my burrito would get cold. Which means, I would have to nuke it again (I’d hate to ruin such a gourmet meal). What to do…? And then (this is where the angels sing ‘Hallelujah’), my eyes fall on the bottle of Shiraz! Great, now other than water, the only thing left in the apartment to drink is cheap shiraz. Well beggars can’t be choosers.

So, I carried my plate with the steaming burrito and my glass of cheap shiraz to my bedroom, grabbed the remote and turned on ‘Scrubs’. I guess all is well in the world tonight!