Age is a Lens

Those who've eaten with me a couple times might remember that I don't like my different kinds of food touching each other on the plate. There are few things more repulsive than a fried chicken leg sodden with mashed potatoes (and yet, look at what I write).

Moreover, I eat food in order: vegetables first, to get them out of the way, then maybe the baked potato or steak, order doesn't matter but once one commits... For breakfast it's usually:

1. bacon
2. eggs
3. french toast

This quirk has evolved.

Tonight I had a craving for Kentucky Fried Chicken, and there was one right there across the street from the store I had gone to! However -

- it wasn't merely a KFC, it was one of those KFC/Taco Bell abominations. I looked at it and all I could think about was enchiritos with honey-barbecue wings stuffed in them and extra-crispy fried chicken slathered with refried beans.

I like KFC on its own and Taco Bell on its own, but I couldn't get those images out of my mind. So I kept driving, figuring there must be an unmolested KFC somewhere.

About 45 minutes later I pulled into the drive-thru of a Popeye's.

Even worse, I know it's horribly inconsistent of me. I have no problem going to Denny's for french toast at one time, spaghetti at some other time, and banana splits after midnight.

But there was this one true sin against God and nature in New Jersey that scarred itself into my brain forever. It combined a Togos, Dunkin Donuts, Baskin Robbins, and I think a Pizza Hut.

That's what age does to you -- transforms your quirks into neuroses, then full blown psychoses.