Tuna Melt for Free

You know what's pretty awesome? Free tuna melts. When I started this post I was going to talk about the empty flashes that streak across your mind, over your body, after all 8 of the people on your favorites list don't pick up their phone. How their voice messages feel going down your ear and through your static mind. But then I thought of the tuna melt I ate today. It was scrumptious and I earnestly doubt I've ever had a better one.

So this professional tuna melt maker, my (super-far-removed-too-difficult-to-explain) uncle Kerry, has been dubbed Martha Stewart by the employees at my main job because of his insatiable passion for 1.) grocery shopping, using the time honored rule of "buy only what's on sale" and 2.) creating magical feasts with said sale items. So I began calling him Uncle Martha, and when he became a grandfather a month-ish ago I began calling him Grampa Martha or Grampa Kerry. I'm a sucker for nicknames. I can't help it. They just stick.

And although my main job is a festering trench of despair, mainly due to the slaves who trod there, things seem to come together for lunch. There's a hot plate that Grampa Martha/Kerry is continuously grilling things on, and a community bottle of Tapatio. There are numerous microwaves, crock pots of all sizes, and long tables almost Hogwarts worthy. There are organized meals, where each person is in charge of one item. Then all morning something wafts into our offices, something spicy or meaty or otherwise succulent. Something more delicious than the dismal input, the calls from happy/angry southern customers, the paperwork.

So while I'm trapped in thatodd prison, dreaming of moments I fear I can't reach, it's a comfort to know that someone is planning lunch. No amount of imbecile coworkers who wear too many bluetooths per ear can ruin our sacred lunch.