So, I know this sounds stupid, like really stupid, but I’m going to just say it. I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich. Not in the “modern gastropub sourdough brioche truffle situation” sense. I wanted the one that comes on the kids menu. The sad little square one, possibly cut into two triangles if they’re feeling fancy, comes with some fries or apple slices or whatever. I had a bad day, and I just…that was it. That was the comfort food that I wanted. I saw the grilled cheese on the menu, nestled beneath the crayon drawings and cartoon mascots, and I asked for it.
And the waitress gave me this really weird look, not exactly mean, but kind of like I asked if I could borrow her shoes. “Um…that’s for kids only.” Like I had asked to sneak into a bounce house without paying.
So apparently we live
