The Sushi Sacrifice

Every single night for over a week, either my husband or I would fall asleep on the couch while binge-watching Friends. We just couldn’t help it. We were tired. Him from getting up before the sun to go to work, and me from deciding to go Paleo and get a fever all in the same week. We are ambitious people.

Late last week, I decided to set up a date night. A stay-at-home date night. First stop, Pinterest. Which turned out to be a disaster. Make indoor s’mores? I have anxiety and mild OCD. Let my man drop some melted marshmallow on our sectional. Date night will then consist of my husband watching me scrub the couch with stain remover while I curse him out. What then, Pinterest? What then?!

Instead of burning the house down while trying to build a campfire indoors, I settled on the safest and cleanest option I could think of. Food. (It’s less messy because it all goes in my mouth. Because I am hungry. All of the time.) We had been wanting to schedule a sushi date for quite some time. I figured why not bring the sushi to us? So, Friday I set off in search of sushi and Japanese beer.

Turns out, Japanese beer is incredibly hard to find. I had to cross the river to look for it. Also, it was raining, and by raining, I mean pouring. My phone kept blowing up with text alerts warning of potential flooding in the area. After seeing the tragedy in Texas last month, I began to panic. I was on the highway approaching a bridge and immediately my mind went swirling through possibilities.

Take a look at where my priorities were as I mentally walked myself through drowning:

If the bridge were to go down, what would be the first thing I should do? Definitely start rolling your window down to make escaping the car as easy as possible, Stefanie. Then just swim up. Whatever way that is. Just swim up. Like Ellen in Finding Nemo. Just keep swimming. 

Oh no. But what about the sushi? I haven’t had sushi in months. It might have been a year. It sure feels like it has been a year. I did Paleo all week. I was so good and strict. That sushi was not cheap. 

If I am going to die, I shouldn’t do it on an empty stomach. Ben couldn’t be mad at me for eating our dinner, not if I was about to die. 

New plan, Stefanie. Screw the window. Eat the sushi. Eat all three rolls before you go to meet Jesus face-to-face. 

As I crossed the last few feet of the bridge, I imagined what the story in the paper would look like if I had actually drowned. “Woman Found Dead, Clutching Empty Boxes of Sushi, With a Smile on Her Face.”

The things I would do for food.

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