The One About Cherries & Ambien
I’m all for the local food movement, the farm-field to table thing and all. But I always look forward to this time of year for the enormous, sour-sweet cherries that magically appear at Costco or Nino Salvaggio. I know it’s extremely non-liberal of me to delight in the explosion of taste that these beauties pack, […]
I’m all for the local food movement, the farm-field to table thing and all. But I always look forward to this time of year for the enormous, sour-sweet cherries that magically appear at Costco or Nino Salvaggio. I know it’s extremely non-liberal of me to delight in the explosion of taste that these beauties pack, particularly when I realize they’re probably produced by indigenous populations of Chilean kittens who personally paw-pick the fruit for pennies on the day with no provisions for a litter box break and only a vague hope of a better future for their grand kitties.
But at $6.99 a pound my morals are bought off and my ethical standards look the other way as I await my next fix, never quite having enough. When early January signals the end of my binge, I spend my fantasy time thinking about May and Washington cherries, then late June when I can finally feel patriotic and buy Michigan’s best. I tell myself all types of lies, like the Michigan fruit is picked by migrant workers who need the seasonal work in order to help their families. Anything’s better than the reality of the kitten work farms. I know, I’m a horrible steward of this planet.
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To help me sleep through some of these long winter’s naps, the doctor has prescribed me a bit of Ambien. Imagine my delight when I read the following on the enclosed instructions, (and in the words of Dave Barry, I’m not making this up):
After taking Ambien, you may get up out of bed while not being fully awake and do an activity that you do not know you are doing. The next morning, you may not remember that you did anything during the night.
Activities include: driving a car, eating food, talking on the phone, having sex, etc.
So this is all to warn you and give you a heads up. If you see me cruising the seedier parts of Troy and Birmingham with a McRib in one hand and cell phone in the other as I look for hookers just realize it’s not me. It’s the Ambien. I can show you my doctor’s note too, if need be.
Come to think of it, I’m writing this blog at 1:18 am. I hope I remember it tomorrow. Oh yeah, I totally will; it’s written with strawberry jam on a large Pizzapapalis.
Thank goodness for edible journals.
