Ramen regression

When I graduated college, I made myself a promise. A solemn vow. As God as my witness, I would never have to eat ramen again. And I don’t mean that fancy restaurant ramen, I mean the 10 cent Maruchan staple that I and million of students before me survived on.

Imagine my surprise when I’m in the grocery store last night. I’ve been sick for a few days with indigestion (which is what I’m calling the feeling of swallowing a brick). NOTHING* sounded good. Nothing at all. Until I came to the soup aisle… Cue ethereal music and glowing light. For some reason the ramen called to me. In a bizarre twist of time and space, I bought ramen after swearing to myself (and everyone who mentions it) that I would never deign to touch the stuff again. And guess what? It was pretty darn good. Of course, now that I’ve had my one fix and am feeling better, the thought is a bit repulsive. Apparently sickness does strange things…


*Stomach aches are probably a great way to go grocery shopping, no superfluous crap in the cart!

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