This morning, as I hurriedly reached for a 2-week old half bagel in the fridge, my hand brushed up against a Del Taco Chicken Soft Taco that had been hiding there since Monday night. I generally like to save one taco for breakfast the next morning, but alas, I had forgotten about this little guy! I excitedly tore into it, but then poked my head around the kitchen wall to see that one of my roommates had fallen asleep on the couch. Not wanting to be shamed by evidence of eating a 4-day old cold taco, I walked outside and stood by our front door to eat my taco. All the while, slowly poking my head out of our front door nook to make sure no one would pass by at 8:51 am to see me.
I then walked to the back parking lot where I continued to eat this taco by my car. I then realized I had forgotten something inside my house. At this point, I was halfway through with my taco. I was not feeling so great about it. I placed it on the ground for Isaac, the neighbor cat. He sniffed and looked up at me, as if to say, "Why would I want to eat something like this?!" and walked away.
I went inside, took one bite of the half bagel, threw it away as its coldness and hardness did not resonate well with the half taco in my tummy. I sighed, walked outside, and went to Starbucks.
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