When you work from home, it’s real easy to become something of a recluse. You wake up, scratch yourself, roll out of bed, grab some coffee as you stumble through the kitchen, and then plant your ever-widening backside at your desk. After that point you rarely rise from your chair, aside from bathroom and replenishment breaks, until rather late at night when you stumble back into the bedroom and pass out.
Things that other people do everyday fall by the wayside because they are no longer required in your routine…things like getting dressed, brushing your hair and, as nasty as it sounds, taking a shower. What do I need to take a shower for? I have spent several days in the exact same, lazy-day outfit — something an old co-worker of mine dubbed her “housecoat” — and relished every minute I didn’t have to “dress my best” for a thankless job requiring me to be “on the same page” and “brain dump” on demand at some ungodly hour in the morning.
But…I must admit that after a while, I desperately need to get out of the frigging house.
Last week I did just that. I showered, donned clean clothes and left the house with John to have lunch at Katie’s Restaurant in Mid City. We decided it would be a good idea to sit outside and soak up some Vitamin D and breathe fresh air for a while. Our server quickly took our order and we sipped iced tea and tried to figure out what the graffiti on the side of the house facing us used to say before it was painted over.
We had ordered an appetizer of “Jenny’s Garlic-Feta Fries,” but our entrees arrived first. A bit confused, I queried our waiter.
“I was wondering, did you remember my order of Feta Fries?”
“Oh yeah! Didn’t I tell you? We ran out.”
“No. No you didn’t tell me. If you had, I wouldn’t be asking about it.”
“I could have sworn I came and told you we ran out.”
“Nope. You didn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m positive.”
“Huh.”
“Well, can I get something else then…perhaps the Eggplant Sticks?”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll be right back.”
Then, out of the blue, he took off running down the block.
We didn’t know if or when he’d be back, so we just started eating our entrees and hoped for the best. John chose Katherine’s Cajun Cuban with smoked cochon de lait, grilled ham, Swiss cheese, mustard, and pickles pressed in between two thick slices of French bread. The cochon de lait was moist and the sandwich tasted pretty good, but it had been brushed in garlicky butter on the outside that made for messy handling.
I just wasn’t in the mood for anything fried or greasy, so I ordered an “oven roasted” turkey sandwich fully dressed on French. From the name, I was hoping that this was a real turkey sandwich, you know, thick slices of juicy turkey from a house-cooked bird, but it wasn’t like that at all. It was like a plain, old turkey sandwich from a grocery store deli…I’m guessing Boars Head? It wasn’t a total loss, the potato salad I had on the side was almost perfect.
Anyhow, as we were munching away, our server pops up behind us magically (I guess he made the block?) and placed the eggplant fries on our table. They turned out to be just so, so. Sprinkled with canned Parmesan and kind of bitter, the only part about the eggplant I really enjoyed was the marinara dipping sauce. *Soapbox* Don’t ever underestimate the value of “sweating” sliced eggplant before cooking!
As we boxed up half our sandwiches to take home, the waiter popped up behind us once again and asked whether we’d like dessert. After being offered the usual bread pudding (is it mandatory that every restaurant in New Orleans serve bread pudding?), we opted for a slice of Thin Mint Doberge (dough-bash) Cake made by that fabulous baking beauty, Debbie Does Doberge. It tasted like a big, many-layered, creamy, decadent slice of an Andes Mint minus the metallic green wrapper.
After lunch, we went back home, I changed back into my housecoat and plopped down in front of the computer once again. Work, work, work…
