Look, I get that you're a salad. You don't have feelings or thoughts. It doesn't matter your intentions, because you were downright RUDE. I don't ask for much. All I want is a little break in the workday to stop, consume food as fuel for my body, and carry on. But NO. You had to go and pull this malarkey.

I guess you just HAD to make my life difficult, didn't you? You saw me choose you in the grocery store and thought, "This is my day. This is my time in the spotlight. I will ruin you." Here I was, sitting on my couch, ready for our time together. I was looking forward to it all morning, actually.  Maybe that's part of the problem, maybe I had too much invested in you. Maybe that's on me. Maybe my expectations exceeded any reality you could deliver. But I thought, hey.  There's chicken, chicken's cool, a real food cameleon. Croutons, those are pretty awesome. Caesar dressing? Welcome to the party. Parmesan cheese? That guy is totally down to hang out. Lettuce, I've known L-Dawgg since I was a kid. What could go wrong with all of them together?  That's just living life right.

And come on, salad. We've hung out before! Okay, so it's not as often as maybe I should, but I reach out from time to time. There was no reason to lash out like this!

Nope, you had to go and ruin it. First of all, you made me WORK to consume you. That's just wrong. I shouldn't have to stab a piece of lettuce four times to get it on the dang fork. I shouldn't have to twist the fork around to get the lettuce to acquiesce into a bitesized piece.  That's far to much work for a lunchtime scenario. That's more like a dinnertime situation. I'll tolerate that when I'm sat at a table with a full meal, sure. But you were LUNCH. You were supposed to be simple. Easy. Compact. Quick.

You made sure that every piece of chicken fell off my fork unless I had something else also pierced. You didn't let me mix you properly and all of the cheese went to the bottom. You made croutons unstabbable. That's just disrespectful. Crutons and cheese don't deserve that. They are above reproach, sir.


Chicken Caesar Salad, you were supposed to be my friend. I had high regard for you and your royalty. I thought our relationship was a two way street. I was wrong. You were a small sized salad, and I couldn't even finish you, I was so annoyed.

And don't bring Plastic Container into this. She served her purpose and saved me having to wash a bowl later. You know Husbando is out of town, and he's the normal dishwasher. Don't even start with me about that.

And don't try Gunnysacking me by bringing up the time strawberries came over. You can't distract me from what you did by blaming harmless fruit.

If I'm going to see you again, it's going to have to be on my terms. I won't put myself through this again, CCS. You're on notice.

Lunchily yours,