R. and I met after morning sessions and strolled through exhibits and chatted. I stopped by the booth to switch shifts with A. so I could see Hope Olson’s talk in the afternoon which meant early lunch on a tight clock which meant that salad bar again. The food court is named Savor. Nope. Company was good though. 

I had this slim half hour between a desk shift and another desk shift, life having been juggled around to accommodate a strategic planning meeting that really kinda sorta didn’t happen. But it was enough time to swallow the last of the lentil and tuna salad, a lunch that makes me feel like an athlete. It’s just so protein packed!

I had to pack my own sandwich but it was still the right thing to do and I was glad I did it even though wow I was running late because I don’t live fifteen minutes away from my office anymore everything is changing.

I had the other half of the not-quite-ripe-enough avocado on my sandwich, waiting for K. to come grab me so we could look at the apartment we already put a bid on even though I hadn’t even seen it. It’s big. Really big. Big enough. We could live there. A little farther from the park than I want, but I can’t always get all of those things. And I know a guy from the history department lives there too. Maybe the kids could get together. Who am I and how did I get here.

It’s the kind of lunch I won’t remember, even more unmemorable than the same lunch the day before, in my apartment, doing the laundry or not doing the laundry, who can remember, watching television or reading a magazine, who can remember. Maybe that is the best kind of day, the one no words will fix.

I am a rich person living in the future so I just bought the song I wanted to listen to and it flew down to my telephone and I listened to it while I ate the salad that I packed from home as sign and proof of my virtue.

M. heated up the leftovers and we had them around the big table, S. running around and around and off and around, when you’re two and a half it’s hard to make you sit still. I could have eaten those yams with kale for days.

So now I’m going to get totally into the genre race report. I downed my bagel sandwich and read about a guy’s first ever sub-4:00 marathon after 20 previous tries. It was hilarious and moving and I loved it. Just as I finished A. walked into my office and balanced a clementine on top of my computer monitor. A little sunshine. I have a good life.

I ate my lentil and tuna salad kicked back in my chair, portfolio turned in, Infoshare file structure built, S. telling me about her date-not-date last night, bright cold sun shining out over the ballfield, biodegradable bamboo spoon, it’s nice when I can’t complain.

I realized as I sat at my desk and read T.’s research assignment for his BIO 622 class that this dish of lentil and tuna salad, this redux lunch that I so smartly packed to work yesterday morning complete with two additional snacks because I would like to move to the many-small-meals strategy for eating so that I can become a champion long distance runner, this dish of lentil and tuna salad would be the 2,000th time I ate lunch and did my best to remember it. Such a big fat round number. Want to curl around it, squeeze it, happy that it’s mine.