Alright . Admission time.
I am bored. Thought one had a lusty afternoon outing planned and well, it didn’t happen.
Thought I’d check out in the area in garage in which I try to keep some addditional food stores for the upcoming apocalypse. Not that I believe in such things.
And I don’t have that much in the closet which someday, will provide all that I need to become a future old-woman survivalist action hero.
Probably enough food and water for a few days to weeks or until the zombies start marching through the neighborhood and climbing through broken windows.
Few cans of tuna, bottles of water, and various other items are out there along with several cans of Spam. Spam? Oh yeah, several months back, bought 5 or 6 cans as a lark and put them on the shelves.
So why not try a childhood dinner time memory of cornbread and grilled slices of Spam?
Are many of you out there old enough, or had a modest upbringing, to be familiar with this stuff?
I don’t remember ever feeling the need to vomit when decades ago, a similar type of can was opened up ever so often. As the lid of the can was pulled back, the smell was nauseating. The texture of the processed ‘meat’ was cringe worthy.
Spam is gross but thought that putting slices of in the oven might help the overall look of the stuff.
It has not.
The Spam is haunting me now.
Should I try it? Just give it to the dogs or is it poison for the dogs?
Has my life become so boring that I ... yes, I am obsessing about that stinky Spam that is cooling on a cooked sheet, covered with foil the way my grandmother did it, right now?
I need a hug. Or gift cards.
With the broken garbage disposal, and the stinky Spam in the kitchen that I am currently avoiding by writing this tripe, I fear I’ve become another cliche for the American dream lost.