An Open Letter to My Boyfriend’s Leftover Burrito
by Amy Lindorff
Let’s set the scene: Your full name is Bean and Cheese Burrito From Plancha, and you were dinner on Friday night. It is now Sunday and lunchtime is rapidly approaching.
Another important detail: Sure, I went to Trader Joe’s yesterday, but you and I both know that all I got was some wine, peanut butter crackers, and a thing of raw jalapeños.
So, now it’s time to eat and there are limited options in our tiny kitchen. I know you’re wondering, “why hasn’t Jon eaten me already? I’m delicious and I thought he loved me!” I wish I had an answer for you. I’m sure he has his reasons. I, for one, devoured your twin brother in one sitting on Friday night, so I can only imagine what it’s like to have the lunch options he has!
One more fun fact: He worked all night and got home at six am, so right now he is asleep and can’t even hear us talking.
I have a couple options here. I could eat you just never mention it and hope that he forgets all about you (sorry). I could not eat you and when he does, eventually wake up, retroactively lay down some Plancha-leftover-related laws that are really just one law and say “if you don’t eat it for a full 24 hours then I WILL IMMEDIATELY.” I could just eat something else (ugh, like, why, when you are right there?). I could drive the 1.2 or so miles to Plancha and have my pal Reuben make me another bean and cheese (god I love Plancha so much). I could wake him up, ask him if it’s okay if I eat you, and hope he says yes.
This story will continue to unfold over the next hour or so, by which time I will be ravenous and thus slightly delusional and probably just order sushi for two on GrubHub and eat it all myself.
What a Sunday! So glad we could spend it together. Say hello to your friend The Red Plancha Hot Sauce and god-willing the three of us will hang out in 57 minutes.