I've realized that one of my biggest weaknesses is bread. It's nearly impossible for me to walk by a bakery and not want to stop in for some fresh rolls or loaves of bread. I get so happy when restaurants serve free bread before a meal. Even walking by Subway in the morning gets me all riled up. Sad, I know. What confuses me, though, is where this love originated. I mean, I was raised on rice, for goodness sake. I was the girl who went to school with dried pieces of rice stuck to her shirt sleeves. Don't get me wrong-- I love the smell of freshly made rice steam wafting through the air as much as any asian, but for some reason, it doesn't make me as excited as the smell of freshly baked bread. I mean, put fresh bread together with salty butter, and it's over.
With that said, there was a whole tray of pumpernickel, sesame seed, and whole grain rolls randomly sitting in the kitchen yesterday with a bowl of individual butter packets right next to it. I nearly had a heart attack, I was so happy. As stealthily as I could, I smuggled five rolls into a paper napkin, stuffed six packets of butter into my pocket, and walked excitedly back to my desk. Near the end of it, my desk looked like this:
That was my lunch yesterday, and I have to say it was pretty darn wonderful.
The only one thing that ruined it, though, was realizing that
my coworker had clearly witnessed me squishing pieces upon pieces of bread into those insufferably small butter packets. :\
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