Last Minute Post: It Comes Down to the Turkey Sandwich at 9 p.m. and I Lose. I Knew I'd Lose, and I'm Okay with That. Karal for the Win.

I didn't get home until 9 p.m.. I went to the mailbox, got my mail, unpacked by book bag and thought, it's after 9 p.m.. I need to eat. I made a turkey sandwich -- not exquisite -- and ran upstairs to put on sweats. I was stuffed in a dress shirt, tie, and coat, and didn't want to eat feeling like a stuffed sausage. 

Something said to me, "Oh, shit. The sandwich. I left it on the counter while I ran upstairs. I bet the dog got it." 

I then changed my clothes and thought, "Surely, she wouldn't eat a turkey sandwich." I was hungry.

She ate the sandwich. I came downstairs and the dog was in her usual, "Give me a biscuit mode. I'm a good girl." No, she wasn't a good girl. She ate my dinner at 9 p.m.  when I came home exhausted. 

I had to laugh, though, because I did a grocery run yesterday and was stocked. I quickly made another turkey sandwich. I had the goods, and it wasn't like I was doing fine-dining. She still begged for biscuits oblivious that she shouldn't have been counter surfing. To her, I made a turkey club sandwich...now what.

There are some moments in time, situations, moments, that are just perfect for the occasion - there are no words. After a long day, the need to eat, and total exhaustion, of course the dog...who doesn't pay taxes, doesn't make beds, never cleans...is feed on the regular...has toys in every room...and has full reign of several rooms and is regularly walked for miles at a time....

...at my sandwich. This, to me, is life. And I'm here for it.