Simple Pie

I am a creature of habit.   My regulated schedule has wiggle room when other things arise, but if nothing else is on the agenda, I like to keep my structure intact.  Brian was helping his nephew with some constructing work at his house, so as 5:30 approached I was pondering dinner.    As 6 pm came, I was still pondering dinner and as I called my spouse’s phone several times only to be greeted by a delightful woman who told me that this customer wasn’t available,  I resumed my reading figuring he and Bailey would be home shortly.

Sure enough the two walked in hot and tired from their construction job and dinner was discussed.  We decided on Blaza Pizza where they customize individual pies.  Actually, we have strayed from any big chain joints because well, they lack any sort of customer service, their pizza suffers from any sort of imagination along with having no flavor.   By this time the clock is creeping toward 7 pm and I am getting “hangry”.  This is where my hunger meets up with my angry side and they join forces to create havoc.   At last, my simple pie (basically a cheese pizza) and I are together.    My mouth waters as it remembers the taste and longs to be reunited.    I smile while taking the first bite.  My taste buds are anticipating the party that takes place in my mouth, but alas, there was no party.   My mouth screams, “Fire in the hole.  Fire in the hole,”.    I gasp and chug my drink.  My mouth is burning from the sensation.  This isn’t hot from temperature this is hot from the sauce.  I asked my spouse about it and he responds, “They might have put the spicy sauce on it instead of the regular.”   I can barely understand him as he eats his delicious garlic knots, that I might add, he bought for himself.  My mouth is still on fire as I toss the pizza box on top of his.  He offers me his garlic knots as a consolation prize, but I decline as I am a martyr.   As I bitch up a store, I cook myself a grilled cheese.    My tongue is still tingling and as I take a bite of the grilled cheese, my taste buds cry in disappointment.

I am so annoyed, I construct an email to Blaze regarding the injustice that I have suffered as a result of the spicy sauce.     The email made it sound as if my tongue had fallen out and that my life may never be the same.    At that moment, I felt that way.

It is quite possible that I could have done things very differently.  Perhaps, I could have driven five blocks to my nephew’s house to find out the progress, then I could have made a decision for myself.  I could have gone and gotten my own pizza instead of having my spouse do it after he was so tired from working all day.   I had options.

Blaze has not gotten back with me.   It is highly probably that they read my email and are still trying to compose themselves after laughing their asses off or maybe they will simply ignore me.   It I were them I certainly would ponder an excellent response laced with underlying sarcasm.

We all have an opportunity to do things differently.  Sure, I can be a pain in the ass.  But, most days I am a pleasant person who can accept a spicy pizza and move on.  Yesterday was not one of those times.

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