Hopefully, for the rest of you, the answer is being digested. But at 10 p.m. tonight, mine was just starting to take its form on my plate. That’s right, I didn’t eat dinner until about 10:30. What!?
My explanation for this craziness is a long, breathy, mostly boring story, and foregoing a detailed, prose-style re-hashing seems the most conducive approach to respecting (a) my sanity and (b) your valuable attention spans. So, I turn to my trusty, brevity-friendly bullets to retell my series of events:
- Decide to embark on my roadtrip from N.Y. to D.C. around 2 p.m. in an attempt to beat traffic
- Give myself a pat on the back when I realize that the roads are empty
- Give myself another pat on the back for creating a pretty impressive road-trip playlist
- Take advantage of the fact that I’m riding solo and commence uncensored, embarrassing car singing
- Realize that a crazy red radiator warning light has turned on, and promptly freak out
- Spend 3 hours at 2 different service centers trying to figure out what’s wrong with my mischievous car
- Endure unknown terms like radiator flush and engine bleed—all the while nodding my head so as not to get taken advantage of for my mechanical ignorance
- Get teary-eyed as the mechanics all realize they have no idea what the problem is, but assure me that it might be safe to continue down to D.C.
- Embrace my inner badass and make the executive decision to put my life on the line in the name of rescuing my sister from her disorganized life—or because I was antsy and moody from lingering around gas stations for 3 hours
- Drive aggressively to mask my intense anxiety that my car is going to blow up at any moment—though, still with no traffic!
- Arrive safely to D.C. at approximately 9 p.m.
Car troubles are the worst, but I don’t even care. I’m just happy to be here (and finally fed!). I’m taking the car to my D.C. mechanic in the A.M. because he is amazing and fixes all that goes wrong in the world—or at least with my car.
Good thing I packed a 3-part kiddy lunch! It ended up saving my life—ahem, stomach—on an unexpected 7 hour car ride. I was definitely hungry by the time I got to my sister’s place—but dinner took the backseat because I was so excited to see her!
Not so much excitement over this…
Yes, that’d be little sister Messy Melissa’s room. We’ve got a lot of work to do. But we’ll save that for tomorrow because—after we got done with the long sisterly embraces and squeals—I needed my din.
But, as I mentioned, she’s not yet been food shopping. So, these were our dinner options—still in a packing box, preventing her buried printer from collecting dust.
What do all these things have in common? Easy (read: lazy) college eating. I wasn’t down for my re-orientation with the college diet. So we made a quick trip to the grocery store and settled on the simplest of dinners.
I wanted to re-create the best wrapper alive, but Melissa is a freak and adamantly believes that “fruit doesn’t belong in real food.” This is a food-taste inferiority I’ve come to terms with—so I re-mixed the wrapper to be more veggified.
This is the remix (for two): can of tuna, one red bell pepper, half a sweet onion, 2 dollops of plain greek yogurt, 2 wedges of LC garlic & herb, salt, pepper, garlic powder and paprika.
This bad boy was vegged-out to the max—and SO good.
Like SO GOOD we just stared at each other, mouths full, only breaking up bites to say proclaim “THIS IS SO GOOD.” Yea, that kind of SO GOOD.
I caught Melissa in search of something, anything, chocolate. She got mad at my attempt to document her intended covert dessert digging…
And soon after caught me—in search of something salty, not sweet, of course.
Alas, no food shopping equates to no dessert options, young grasshopper. We may get inventive—slash break into a roomie-stash—if need be, later.
For now, sister spooning will suffice!