I was at work and the heat in my office was broken and I was so cold but you know what warms a person up? Coating their insides with hot fat. 

I have a bargaining thing that I do with the cheeseburger at Smashburger. It is a wrong food, bad, I am bad to want it, it makes me feel bad, but I don’t believe there is another food I love so much, that gives me so much pleasure in the mouth. So I try to say no, back away, get the chicken sandwich, as if that’s any more likely to keep me alive. I know that I am more likely to say yes if I wait and wait and don’t eat lunch until very late in the day. Today I stalled lunch with an orange, a packet of almonds left over from my last airplane flight. I asked colleagues for alternatives. I tried to walk past. But hey. Why not. Really. The world’s about to die, in part because of Smashburger cheeseburgers. I did get the child size, though. There is some good in that, slightly less dead cow?

By now I know the transfer situation at the Salt Lake City airport so well that I knew I had just enough time to dash in and out of the McDonalds line if I wanted to have enough to eat for lunch.

O. played in the ball pit while I looked at chairs, then he came with me and sat on the two chair finalists I picked out, he and I agreed on the best chair, we also agreed we were hungry so stood in the absurd line and got lunch. I think they ran out of food, hence the backup. I was so hungry by the time we got to the front that I made terrible choices and we ended up with not quite enough food, a sense of scarcity at the IKEA cafeteria.  You know that was all on me.

The international terminal at the Ottawa airport is a sad little collection of three gates, the rest of the Canadian flights behind a glass wall, H. said she’d join J. and I for lunch if only she could be subatomic gastronomy. Instead J. and I went to the bar area and ordered food and sat and ate and chatted and if you’d told me ten years ago when I first found his work that we’d be lol’ing at an airport bar a decade later, well, it’s been a good life so far and I’m lucky.

The problem with a cheeseburger and fries is that even though it is the only thing I want in the whole wide world, it is always regrettable, always every single time a thing to regret. And yet. Gobbled it. Delicious. The best best best.

Suffused with anxiety, don’t quite know the culprit, but definitely soothed by mainlining a chicken sandwich and fries. Smashburger. It’s my favorite place in New York.