Whatever That Was in the Middle

Last week, B called.  She'd been trying to get Mama Cat in a carrier or trap so she could move her to her new place, down in the Eugene area, for days, without any luck.  I went over, netted her and had her in a carrier in three minutes.

She wanted to take me out to dinner as a thank you. Tonight was the night.

She was back in town to hand the keys of her old place back to the landlord and load up the last car full of stuff.

So we went to a Mexican place.  I don't like to eat out much.  That's a huge stretch on my trust levels, to eat food someone else I don't know has prepared out of sight of me.  The thing that changed me on this, and it really never used to bother me at all, was meeting people who cook that food.  Or meeting their relatives and hearing stories of their relatives and how awful they behave and what they've done to food when they get mad.

Former and recovering meth addicts often become cooks.  I won't go into details.  But after realizing I had run into a lot of the people now working as cooks and seen how they live, their unclean abodes and habits, I couldn't eat out like I used to.

But tonight I went out with B.  She ordered for me since I'd forgotten my glasses.  There was your generic seasoned rice on one side.  Black beans on the other.  And something in the middle.  It was covered in cheese with green bits showing through here and there.  Spinach I think.  A vegetarian plate.

We were talking.  I was eating, not paying much attention.  There was not much flavor to the food.  Whatever that was in the middle tasted like cheese smothering something.  But I could only taste the cheese.

I had a margarita also.  So did B.  There was a lot of salt on the edge of the glass.  Too much.  I wiped most of it off, then sipped it.  By the time we were ready to leave, my stomach was already killing me, like knives slicing my gut top to bottom.  By the time I got to the car, I was doubled over.  I thought "Ok, I just ate too much."

By the time I got home, I could not straighten up my stomach hurt so bad.  It's been like that ever since.  I tried to sleep but woke up and whatever that was in the middle came up.  Looked a whole lot like spinach pieces.

Later, I upchucked more of whatever that was in the middle.  I hope to upchuck it all.  If I only knew how to make myself upchuck, I feel my world would suddenly feel like a dark shroud was torn off.

Whatever that was in the middle, between the generic rice on the left and the black beans on the right, has not been welcomed by my intestinal tract.  This experience won't do much for my acquired disaffection for eating out.