Meet Me in the Chicken Coop

Have you ever sat in a meeting where it was utterly impossible to pay attention? Most recently, I "participated" in a lunch meeting in a corner bodega that happened to have a small seating area, and I could not stop staring at the cans of gravy stocked on a grocery shelf. They were Franco American brand, which I just discovered isn't even made any more (it's all Campbell's now – sad!). What caught my eye, however, was the size of the cans. They were gallon size cans of turkey gravy. Who the fuck needs a gallon of gravy? I don't particularly like gravy, so I just stared and stared in utter revulsion, thinking about someone coming in to buy a gallon can of gravy.

Gravy or not, I have a long history of spacing out during boring meetings. At my prior job, the staff was subjected to monthly "all staff meetings" during which we gathered in the conference room and used the high tech speaker phone to dial into a conference call with HQ and the rest of the staff in California. In my first year of employment, the New Yorkers generally paid attention and were respectful, but by the time I left, we had been goofing off for years. Often we just put the phone on mute and either mocked the crap out of people or did our own work silently.

One day when the other worker bees were being productive during a meeting, my little mind started to wander. If I had to eat a food beginning with only one letter for the rest of my life, what letter would I choose? I suspected that "C" was the correct answer, as cookies, cheese, cake, and chocolate all fall under that rubric (and to be healthy, there are carrots), but just to be scientific, I devised a chart with all the letters of the alphabet and began listing essential foods under each letter. By the end of the meeting, I had decided that "C" was indeed my best option.

Ever since that fateful day, I've been confident in my analysis. Yesterday threw me for a loop. I was eating eggs and ruminating upon how much I love them in all forms when it hit me: eggs do not begin with "C." Could I really live an egg free life if the horrible day came and I was forced to only eat "C" foods? Panic set in. I might need to reevaluate everything. Fortunately, Husband kept his cool and thought logically.

"Chicken eggs begin with 'c'," he reminded me.

Crisis averted. Have a happy Monday.