For me a bagel without cream cheese is like a…Well, like a bagel without cream cheese. Every morning I try to ignore the gnawing in my stomach that signals me to, “EAT SOMETHING YOU FOOL!” What do I want to eat this morning? Hey, how ’bout a bagel with cream cheese. I hear yah, sistah!
While my bagel is toasting under the broiler (’cause I don’t like both sides toasted) I go to the refrigerator to get the cream cheese. I look on every shelf moving ever thing around, in the refrigerator door, in the crispers…WHERE IS IT! I know I didn’t use it all. I remember opening it and using it once the other day. Maybe I put it in the freezer. Nope not there. Maybe, just maybe I put it in the closet. Oh, please tell me I didn’t do that! Nope not in the closets either. I know that T and B didn’t eat it because they would rather eat dirt than eat cream cheese. Frantically, I head back to the refrigerator to look for that cream cheese. It is still not there (like it would just magically appear or something). I close the refrigerator door and stood in front of it. I could feel my face take on a quizzical look and then a frown and then comes the hands on the hips. Hmm! “I know it is in there somewhere.” I again, open that door and aggressively move things around while taking a mental inventory of what is in there. Maybe I overlooked it.
In the meantime, my bagel is browning nicely. Then I thought how ridiculous I must look and how ridiculous a block of cream cheese could ruin my day. I gave up on the search for the cream cheese and talked myself down. I will eat that bagel without that delectable, creamy substance. I turned around to the counter and there it was a shiny silver wrapped block of cream cheese. Now comes the words I have said hundreds of times since becoming old enough to become an AARP member. “How did that get there?” However, I digress and will state once again that ‘a bagel without cream cheese is like…Well, like a bagel without cream cheese’.
Now, where did I put my glasses? Perhaps I put them in the refrigerator. I’ve done that before. Now a new and different search begins. But, not until I finish my bagel, that is.
Oh, the joy of being me.