Salad Saga

I've been having salad a lot lately.  I bought the romaine lettuce and spinach and red pepper when I was trying not to eat simple sugars and other refined carbohydrates to keep my cold from getting too bad.  (Don't know if that worked; I'm still sick and have been rather miserable.)  The rest of the fixings I had on hand for the occasional salad.  When I came home last week with my treasure, Mom told me she'd bought some too.  It's in a package, and mine was from the produce trays that get sprayed by grocery store rain, so we're using mine first.  I'm proud to say we've used most of mine up.  But the double purchase was the first of the "whoops" in my salad saga.

The rest are all tonight.  And I'd rather have them sprinkled across the days like croutons over the greens.  Oh well.  I was shredding carrot and one end of the carrot broke off into the bucket that was balanced on the edge of the sink, only then it wasn't; it was in the sink, and had thrown a handful of salad onto the dishes therein.  I rescued a few pieces from a plate I knew to be mostly clean.  Hey!  I rinsed them!

Next I was separating the salad into two bowls, one for me and one for my brother.  A bite hit the floor at my feet.  I warned my cat against eating it, as I don't know the effects of spinach on felines.

After adding the croutons and sunflower seeds and raisins and craisins - I know they're sweetened; I've given up on the anti-sugar diet - I handed my brother his dressing.  Then his bowl.  Then I asked him whether he wanted a small (technically, a "salad") fork, and I had it in my hand already when he said no, he wanted a big one.

Then I went to sit on the stool lining the not-really-a-wall of our kitchen so I could eat in the same room with him and see him over the drink jug like you use at picnics and potlucks that is sitting on our table.  But the fork in my bowl flipped out and brought a piece of my salad with it.  I put the bowl down next to the fork, which had landed on a chair nearby, and picked up the romaine from the floor (it landed dressing-side down) to throw away.

When I got back I grabbed a napkin to remove the dressing, but had to use it to catch a sneeze instead.  After finishing that chore and washing my hands (it's all I do anymore!) I finally came back, and was about to retrieve my salad when I saw my cat licking it.  Straight from the bowl!  I assumed she had only licked that particular spot, so I grabbed my meal away from her and yelled at her to lick the dressing off the floor, and took that piece of lettuce out and remembered this time to bring my bowl and fork with me.  The fork went into the sink, and I got another, that one my brother hadn't wanted.

I gave up on sitting in the kitchen with my brother.  In the living room on the coach, cozy between puffs plus/hand sanitizer and my laptop, I finally ate my salad.  And it was great.  Until I tried to stab a crouton.  The  creamy Italian had not soaked into it enough to make it pierce-able.  Instead the crunchy bread flipped, somehow bringing with it some raisins and some red peppers and dressing.  It stuck to my white dress where it landed.  But I picked it up and put it back in my bowl and ate it anyway.  My dress will wash.

What remained of my salad I ate in peace.

To God be all glory.

PS: I went to wipe the dressing off the floor, but I think my cat followed orders.  I wonder what are the effects of Creamy Italian Dressing on felines?