Just a Cheeseburger

I really wanted a cheeseburger after my run. A cheeseburger with a coke. A sweet, fizzy, cold Coke. And some french fries. At a table. I imagined grading some papers while sipping on my Coke.

But alas, it was not to be. Three o'clock on a Sunday afternoon is not the time to go looking for cheeseburgers in this flour tortilla town. Not that I *really* know where to look, but I do know not to go back to First Awakenings. (That, and they close at 2:00.) I had to go to the grocery store, so while wandering among the fresh veggies, I decided I would just *make* my own burger. I picked up some potato chips, a bottle of Coke, and some organic, grass-fed ground beef. What can I say? I am not running to lose weight. I am running to obsess about something other than school. And to eat.

So I made myself a burger. I put cheese on top. I toasted some white bread and smothered it with Helman's mayo (there not many things better than a sandwich that begins with toasted white bread and Helman's mayo). I added some lettuce and some onion (the tomatoes were too sad looking to even try). And then I ate it. Can you tell how good it was?