A few months ago I wrote a blog post about my first apartment. I loved that little apartment so much.
At dinner tonight, somehow Hubby and I got on the subject of French fries. It reminded me of a particularly bad habit I had when I was in college and lived in that little apartment. I should have been too ashamed to tell Hubby, much less put it out there for the whole world to read on my blog.
Oh, I temporarily forgot. The whole world doesn't read my blog. Carry on.
I loved that my apartment was on the city bus line, and it was on the very edge of campus. I also loved that it was near a lot of restaurants. Not that I could afford to eat at many of them, you understand.
There was one "restaurant" that I frequented pretty ... frequently. Particularly the morning after a night out, which only happened ... once or twice a weekend. Maybe more at the end of the semester.
My favorite fast food place was Burger King. I often went through their drive-through (those were still relatively novel things), because it meant I didn't have to put on a bra. Or shoes. I would order one of the combo meals with a big old cheeseburger, a large order of French fries, and a soft drink. Not the diet kind either.
Because I knew I would start eating the fries out of the bag on my way home, I would also buy an extra order of French fries. Nothing worse than getting home with the cheeseburger and drink and finding all the fries gone. Buying an extra order fixed that problem. I then had one order of fries to eat on the way home and another to eat with my meal when I reached my apartment.
The picture below should give you a good idea of just how sad that story is. And why it would be so much better if I didn't tell everything that comes into my brain.