Let’s not talk about how I haven’t blogged in almost two months. I’m here to write a love letter, and a love letter I shall write.
My beloved Chipotle,
I was driving home from the rec today, looking fine in my sweat-soaked OSU shirt and Nike crops, when hunger struck. When hunger strikes me, it’s not a pretty picture. I can go from hungry to hangry in a matter of seconds and when hanger hits, watch out. Luckily, you were on the way home. I was the definition of a hot mess but I knew you would not deny me what I needed the most at that moment: delicious, corn-free, Mexican food.
(Okay…I know you’re not “real” Mexican food, but you’re the only Mexican-ish food I can eat because you’re not as corn-crazy as other Mexican establishments. I realize it’s customary, but there are those of us who simply can’t partake in corn chips and salsa without our stomachs waging a nasty war on us shortly thereafter.)
In a matter of minutes you bestowed upon me a gigantic bowl full of that Mexigoodness, and I was on my way home to devour you.
But not without taking some pictures, first. What’s a good love letter without pictures? A picture is, after all, worth a thousand words.
Upon digging in, I was delighted to discover a token of your love.
Really, you’re too kind.
So kind that I couldn’t even finish the entire thing.
Okay, I probably could have if I wanted to feel bloated for hours afterward. I chose to refrain today.
That doesn’t mean I love you any less.
Now, I think it’s time for a little siesta.
If you’re a Chipotle fan like I am, what do you get?