Do you know what I miss most since we’ve been in various degrees of lockdown ‘round here in the Netherlands?
It’s not human interaction. It’s not physical contact. It’s not being able to go wherever, whenever and not worry about witnessing people stir up trouble over something so simple as wearing a mask.
I’m a simple soul. I crave simple things. And what I miss most is not something intangible or spiritual or emotional at all.
I miss the taste of salty French fries and crunchy McNuggets drenched in copious amounts of sweet-and-sour sauce. Miss the wilted lettuce and buns that melt on your tongue. Miss the brainfreeze that inevitably comes with binging McFlurries and I miss the feeling of ‘OMFG I’M SO FULL’ followed by the ‘I could totally eat’ sentiment only an hour later. I have always been a fast-food addict – with MickeyD being firmly put at the top of my worship list. So yeah.
I miss McDonalds.
And that’s kind of stupid since they’re not actually closed or anything, but the closest one to my house in a 25 minute drive away and I’ve never been one of those American types that is chilling at home and then leaves the house ONLY to go get McDonalds.
Nope some more.
McDonalds is a guilty passerby pleasure for me. Something to grab on the way home from work, knowing full well there’s food in the house to make a decent dinner with. Something to binge after a softball match ‘since you burned all these calories anyway’. Somewhere to stop after a night out, or on the way back from a friends house when they numerous drinks just deserve a fatty chaser.
You don’t ‘go out’ just to get McDonalds. You just squint your eyes while on the driveway hoping for a sign that you should pull-off and put something bad in your body. An actual sign, yaknow. A huge, big, flashy M. And lucky for me – I always manage to find one before I turn towards home, when needed.
But my wallet-app now tells me that the last time I ordered at McDonalds was in September!
SEP-TEM-BER. That’s four months ago. FOUR months. The 16th of September. To be exact. Which – coincidentally is two days before my final..yaknow…winkwinknudgenudge.
Maybe someone should start some research to the effects of not-having-McDonalds on sexual appetite. The two might totally be connected. Who knows – maybe there’s humpy hormones in the excessive salt they ditch on those fries. I wouldn’t even be surprised.
No McDonalds and no sex – for almost 4 months. COVID what are you doing to me. It’s like this madness stole my two favorite things in the world away and replaced them with responsible work-behavior-since-I’m-near-the-computer-anyway and couch-potato-ing. Believe me. That’s bad. That’s just. Bad. The only potato-ness that IS acceptable is the fried variety. Not this me-being-in-stasis on my pillows.
So in order to remedy this fact – it would make sense that I’d just take the car and get this dreadful black void in my life filled with EVERYTHING on the McMenu. But I find myself unwilling to do even that – since I made the mistake of printing out my resolutions and hanging them next to my work-screen so I can ponder them as I sit here thinking of making bad decisions. Damn it.
But I’m just getting it out there. I miss McDonalds. A good reason to drive by one might appear if the universe is eavesdropping (as I already suspect it is!). And if you’re on the road – the calories don’t count. Right?