And not the good kind, with the ska.
I have every minute of this week scheduled--something which usually irritates me to the point of fury. I am a delicate swan who comes up with creative ideas! I do not execute! All this executing is going to strike me down in the prime of life!
Wednesday night I sewed much of two costumes, including this little sneak peek.
Much like any well-oiled machine, every part in my life must work properly. I stopped for a lunch on my way to work. I wanted a reuben sandwich. Sadly, the reuben on the menu came with 1,000 Island dressing. What a terrible abuse of a sandwich and a dressing. MUSTARD, mustard belongs on a reuben (and mustard belongs on a hot dog; ketchup is for children.) The sandwich place explained that they make their reubens in advance (what?) and couldn't substitute dressings. I considered a small lecture on the evils of 1,000 Island on a reuben and the transcendence of mustard, but thought better of it. The lady taking my order suggested a custom sandwich instead. So I ordered pastrami and swiss on rye with sauerkraut (spelled as sourkraut on the menu*,) and grilled.
When I got to work and opened my sandwich I found this:
Roast beef and swiss on rye, with SPROUTS.
But by the beard of Golda Meir, it had mustard on it!
*Probably the best sign in the world that you have no business ordering a reuben from the establishment in which this egregious spelling error appears.