Finally finished arguing with myself about what happened to the mustard. At this point it seems I’ll never know. Somehow, in the last 48 hours, a bottle of mustard purchased just a couple of weeks ago vanished. That makes no sense. It is not in the trash or in my messenger bag, and I cannot fathom a scenario in which it would have ended up in the latter.

But the conversation with myself turned hairy. Where the hell did the mustard go? How did it just vanish? Where the hell is the mustard?

This morphed into more conciliatory sentiments. You don’t even like mustard anymore. Get some fucking mayonnaise. You’ll be happier with mayonnaise.

I procured a small container of mayonnaise, not willing to invest in a larger bottle until I am certain I am ready for the transition, nay the outright switcheroo from mustard to mayonnaise. Mustard has been in my life for a long time now. I cannot just kick it out without proper consideration, research, and analysis.

Without any mustard (or mayonnaise) in the fridge I assumed I would be able to find at least one mayonnaise packet left over from food delivery. I failed in this search, remembering that I had used the last of those packets on a very dry turkey wrap just last week. I also discarded a quantity of mayo packets when I could not determine their age, though I’ve never seen a mayo packet with an expiration date printed on it.


My new boots feel a little awkward but I’ll get used to them. Walking around with shoes not riddled with holes on the bottoms felt powerful. I walked like a conqueror, unafraid of stepping onto shallow pools of water or crackly surfaces.