Claire and I were in Berkeley for some shopping and general browsing. We did our usual stroll and shop routine till around noon time and decided it was time to eat. I was cross (as usual) for some reason or another. I was probably over hungry and out of control as I was back then. Claire recognized I needed to get some food in me and we quickly decided on the burrito place that was on the corner.
This was your typical burrito joint. Cafeteria style, you tell them what you want as you walk. We placed our order and began the shuffle. (I wanted to say sashe' but don't know how to spell it). Claire's burrito came out as she ordered it. Normal. Then came mine. The tortilla seemed fine, beans, rice, meat, cheese, salsa, guac, etc. All seemed right to me. The it happened. As my burrito maker attempted to roll this monstrosity, the tortilla split. She proceeded to grab another tortilla and scraped the lot of the other one into this new tortilla. To me this was an incontionable act. I stiffend. I cringed. My eyes begain to redden and a bit of steam crept from my ears. Claire futilly tried to mitigate. I mean what is the big deal, right? Well, it isn't perfect. I didn't say a word but a plan was brewing in my head to get back at this burrito maker for doing such a thing to me. (How dare she?).
Clarie and I took our burritos back to our table. I sat for a solid 3 minutes before I was ready to reveal my plan for revenge. It went something like this:
Ok, Claire this is what I am going to do: I am going to go to the liquor store two doors down, buy a disposable camera, and bring it back. This is what you need to do: You need to have the camera ready to take the shot.
The shot of what? Claire had horror written all over her face. Here we go again. Josh is fucking crazy, but (I love him?).
The shot: I am going to go back to my burrito maker, burrito in hand and throw it in her (yes her) face. I need you to get the shot of it hitting her. I need to have a permanent memory of revenge for her not making my burrito perfect. Seriously.
What happened: After I explained all this to Claire, I set out to get the camera. Somewhere in the liquor store a bit of sense came over me and I calmed down just enough to realize that this was not something I should do. I came back to the burrito joint, sat down until Claire was done eating (she didn't eat much, lost her appetite somehow), and stared at my burrito. When she was done, I took her's and my plates, disposed of them and left.
The quest for perfection can be overwhelming and is not in any way possible in this mortal world. The moment I realized this, (there was no moment, it was a long process) all got easier. I didn't need the perfect burrito anymore. I didn't need plans to go as planed. I didn't need to be so critical.
This was your typical burrito joint. Cafeteria style, you tell them what you want as you walk. We placed our order and began the shuffle. (I wanted to say sashe' but don't know how to spell it). Claire's burrito came out as she ordered it. Normal. Then came mine. The tortilla seemed fine, beans, rice, meat, cheese, salsa, guac, etc. All seemed right to me. The it happened. As my burrito maker attempted to roll this monstrosity, the tortilla split. She proceeded to grab another tortilla and scraped the lot of the other one into this new tortilla. To me this was an incontionable act. I stiffend. I cringed. My eyes begain to redden and a bit of steam crept from my ears. Claire futilly tried to mitigate. I mean what is the big deal, right? Well, it isn't perfect. I didn't say a word but a plan was brewing in my head to get back at this burrito maker for doing such a thing to me. (How dare she?).
Clarie and I took our burritos back to our table. I sat for a solid 3 minutes before I was ready to reveal my plan for revenge. It went something like this:
Ok, Claire this is what I am going to do: I am going to go to the liquor store two doors down, buy a disposable camera, and bring it back. This is what you need to do: You need to have the camera ready to take the shot.
The shot of what? Claire had horror written all over her face. Here we go again. Josh is fucking crazy, but (I love him?).
The shot: I am going to go back to my burrito maker, burrito in hand and throw it in her (yes her) face. I need you to get the shot of it hitting her. I need to have a permanent memory of revenge for her not making my burrito perfect. Seriously.
What happened: After I explained all this to Claire, I set out to get the camera. Somewhere in the liquor store a bit of sense came over me and I calmed down just enough to realize that this was not something I should do. I came back to the burrito joint, sat down until Claire was done eating (she didn't eat much, lost her appetite somehow), and stared at my burrito. When she was done, I took her's and my plates, disposed of them and left.
The quest for perfection can be overwhelming and is not in any way possible in this mortal world. The moment I realized this, (there was no moment, it was a long process) all got easier. I didn't need the perfect burrito anymore. I didn't need plans to go as planed. I didn't need to be so critical.
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