So lately I’ve been spending entirely too much time in the mystical land of drive through. I have a special affinity for the digestive mecca that is Taco Bell, but have been known to stop by a Taco John’s when I have the inclination.
Potato Oles have a particularly place in my hot fried potato nirvana.
Question is: What’s there to feel guilty about?
I mean…there are circumstances in my day-to-day life that make eating at home at once uncomfortable and worthy of aversion. Yes, my budget does get strained mightily by my escapades in taco-burger-diet Coke land, but I’ll live with it until environmental situations change.
I won’t get into it here as a) entirely too much pathetic involved and b) while I don’t expect related parties to actually read this-or anyone for that matter-I maintain a healthy respect for the open book that is the interwebs. Some discretion is called for and I will heed that.
So, back to the topic at hand…the guilt I end up feeling every time I pull up to the grated voice box to place my order of fat-o-rama.
The voice in the back of my head that’s saying: NO NO NO NO.
Ethically, I would like to say that I avoid McDonald’s as often as possible.
Honestly, that would be a lie.
It’s food. It gets me from point a to point be without much thought. There’s a certain appeal to that, I will admit.
I do miss having the freedom to play in MY kitchen (and to suffer the consequences of ill advised playground antics). I guess that’s the guilt and I’m working on improving that situation as soon as possible.
Annoying, this is the truth, but I can live through it.
So I’ll embrace my guilt, I suppose and strive to explore new drive-thru options the next time I hit the road.
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