It was no big secret that I was sick and tired of the oppressive and seemingly endless summer that lasted well into October, but fall lasted, oh, four days. Now it is downright cold a lot of the time, except when it is randomly 72 and sunny, and my wardrobe and respiratory system are having a hard time keeping up with the weather. I am either too hot or too cold. My nose is either running or painfully dry. Really, I hate to complain, but can we pick a season and stick with it for at least a few weeks?
Last night was a cold night, so I picked up a bagel and a bowl of chili from Brueg.ger’s and headed to
the place where brain cells go to die my cataloguing class. About 30 minutes in, after I’d given up on following the lecture, which involved something about Samuel Johnson’s cat Hodges and oysters, I decided to pass the time by eating my takeout.
I have never been a fan of plastic cutlery. Plastic forks are wimpy and the little tines break off too easily, and I am the kind of person who would unknowingly swallow a plastic fork tine because weird crap like that happens to me. Plastic knives are generally useless for their intended purpose. And plastic spoons are either too flat or too deep–there is no happy medium. Have you ever tried to eat soup with a too-flat plastic spoon? You’re doing well to get enough soup to register a taste. Who has that kind of time? I always end up surreptitiously drinking my soup straight from the bowl when such a spoon is involved. But I’ll take a flat spoon over a miniature bowl-on-a-stick any day. You know what I’m talking about, I know you do. Wendy*s spoons are a perfect example. You are pumped about your Frosty but it hasn’t melted enough to drink through a straw, so you have to use the spoon. You scoop some out and put the spoon in your mouth and–wait, what’s with all that ice cream left in the bottom of the spoon? The human lip is not made to reach that far down into a spoon. You turn it upside down, and that doesn’t work either, so you lick the remains of your spoonful and wait until enough melting allows you to use the straw.Compared to the spoon I received with my chili last night, a Wendy’s spoon is a flat expanse of plastic.
It started out harmlessly enough: I had to sip at first because it was still a little warm. But then I was ready for full-on chili eating, and the spoon was so deeply concave that it CUT MY LIP, people. It CUT me! And the chili was HOT. Not “let this cool down a bit” hot. It was “children I have not yet conceived can feel how hot this is” hot. And by the time I realized my lip was actually lacerated, the spicy hot hotness of the hot chili had made contact with my spoon-induced injury, and for the first time this semester I wanted to cry in cataloguing class for reasons having nothing to do with cataloguing.
When my alarm went off this morning I made the mistake of yawning. Yow. Smiling is painful. My Burt’s lip balm is like fire. And my lips are a little swollen–not bee-sting/right hook/gum surgery swollen. Just slightly puffy, like maybe I had a little injection, applied a little of that plumping cream. And it only cost me $3.99. Move over, Nip/Tuck.