KEEPING MY EYES ON THE SUBWAY SANDWICH

It has been a busy few months.

First, I pack to move (after fifteen years).  Then, I have facial surgery to remove more atypical cells (plastic surgeon level procedure).  I am not supposed to lift anything, so I hire movers (Two Men and a Truck -- not even kidding, this company is amazing ... AMAZING).  There are still things to move, though, so I gather friends and family and make a couple of more trips.  Finally, I decide it's still early enough, so I make the last trip, finish cleaning the old place, and wade through boxes at the new place so I can sleep on the futon (the same futon I've been sleeping on at the old place after packing up the bedding).

This weekend I have a fundraiser for Boston Children's Hospital (okay, it's a pub crawl, so really, this one is no sweat), and  there is also my niece's twin babies shower (definitely no sweat and lots of fun), so I finally get a break from the strenuous stuff.

After that it's a week full of meetings, professional development, project presentations and assemblies at school.  Cap that all off with the term ending on Friday, and I believe that I have totally qualified for:

BEING TOO TIRED TO KEEP MY EYELIDS OPEN.

I'm not going to lie: My eyes have glazed over more than once (and probably more than a dozen times) to the point where I am convinced that I may have dozed off for a few seconds during work.  I am hesitant to drive in the dark (which makes my morning commute and evening errands interesting) lest I accidentally not see something or someone.  I almost shat myself two days ago when a giant doe jumped out of the woods and almost ran into my car on route 62 and 6:40 a.m. in the dark and rainy drear.

So, forgive me for what I am about to admit.

I finally broke down last week and attempted to eat McDonald's for the first time in at least a decade (hamburger ended up in the trash, fries ended up in my belly, and Kahlua ended up in the vanilla shake).  Tonight after driving my daughter and her boyfriend to Oak Grove MBTA station, I decide I am hungry.  With no food in the new place yet, this brings up the question of what to eat and from where should it come.

I could go to Pizza Hut inside the nearby Target store.  I could attempt more fast food (Burger King or Wendy's this time).  I could go pay through the nose at Panera and suffer through their ridiculously jacked-up prices for semi-decent food.

I end up at Subway, which is good and bad.  The poor guy making my sub is so patient.  I want turkey and bacon, that much I know.  Oh, heck, throw some Swiss cheese on that bad boy.  Then I have him add lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, cukes, peppers, onions... on and on.  Last but not least, I have the sub topped with light mayo.  I look at the guy behind the counter and start laughing.  "LIGHT mayo, like that's going to make a difference with all that stuff on there."

I don't care!  I earned that sub, damnit.  I had to go four days without eating much because my face was so swollen that I couldn't open my jaw.  I was taking toddler bites and losing half the food back onto my plate.  This sub is fabulous.  FABULOUS.

Now, if you don't mind, my eyes glazed over mid-chew about halfway through, so I'm going to wrap up the remainder and drag my sorry arse to bed.  Maybe next week will be a little slower-paced.  Knowing me, however, I highly doubt it, kids; seriously, I totally and completely doubt it.