I ate a turkey sandwich from the Whole Foods by my therapist’s office in the core curriculum committee meeting. I can’t believe anyone is credulous about faculty governance in 2017, but what else are we going to with our lives?

Paying real money for things to drink still feels impossibly luxurious, even now, a decade into making a salary high enough to regularly pay real money for things to drink. I don’t even think about getting the juice anymore, I just get it. I put a can of lemon lime seltzer from home into my lunch bag this morning. Eating in my office in the twelve minutes between therapy and the refdesk, it was like I was practically in France.

C. and I were so hungry, Left Forum not offering a lunch break until 2 in the afternoon. Too hungry for me to make a good choice, hence terrible turkey sandwich from the bad deli across from John Jay. We ate on the steps and caught up, avoiding by virtue of failure to make eye contact the hard sell from the elderly vegan. She’s right, but it’s not going to change the sandwich in my hand. Yet.

I have to learn to expect less. Not all boxed lunches are good. There were three kinds at the meeting today: veggie, turkey, and tuna. I went with the veggie, and it was a mistake, but it could only be a mistake, I could only make a mistake. The veggies were oily, an unsavory oily combination of variety squashes and inexplicable pickles. The wrap was orange. I’ll eat most chips especially if the sandwich is a veggie wrap, but Doritos are my least favorite. The cookies were awesome. Nobody else was diving in so I snagged the only lemon-lime seltzer. Coup.

The black cherry seltzer made this Aramark meal. I ate like five cookies. We worked while we ate, evaluating the template for next year’s three year cycle, more fun than it sounds. G. also had the chicken salad and then left with an allergic reaction. So far I’m fine, knock knock, and can’t say enough about what a nice Aramark touch those red grapes were.

I’d been thinking maybe I’d treat lunch as a celebration since I’d spent the morning spit-shining my thank-yous (omg! thank you!) but the weight of my to-read folder suggested otherwise. So I buckled down to my reading in the cafe, gnawing at my sandwich. One article down, I ran to the bank and grabbed a seltzer at the deli, mostly so I could make a home-carbonation joke to K.