Life, universe and everything

Olive bait

So here’s a funny story. It goes back to our vacation this summer. After the trip to the South of France D and I flew to Bucharest and stayed at my sister’s place for a few days. Our Nice-Bucharest flight landed at around 11pm and after a bumpy taxi ride and a hot shower I was almost dozing off every time I blinked. The thing was, though, I was also famished. Isn’t that just the perfect combo? Tired and hungry? Actually scratch that. Throw in the need to empty your bladder. Now it’s perfect. But I digress.

My sister called and ordered a pizza so the only thing we could do was wait for the delivery guy. I don’t really know what the deal with that pizza place was, maybe they were measuring the amount of flour in the dough gram by gram, or perhaps they planted the vegetables when you passed the order and were waiting for them to grow. It was taking forever and my stomach was getting increasingly demanding. Or at least it seemed like forever to a creature on the brink of starvation like myself. Einstein, you smart dog!

We waited for an hour I think. But ten minutes or so before the pizza arrived I gave in to The Sandman’s sleep dust and passed out. So when the food was finally on the table, D had the arduous task of waking me up. Now, bear in mind, I have no recollection of this part. All I know is what D told me the next day. Apparently I was sleeping as a log, an ability I’d like to possess all the time, but alas I don’t.

D would manage to shake me into a semi-conscious state and tell me “hey missy, wake up, the pizza’s here”  to which I would mumble something and then poof! two seconds later fall back asleep. This incident happened again and again and again, until D lost all patience and concluded a change of tactics was required. So he took an olive from the pizza and rubbed it on my nose. Yes, he did. Similar to the way you dip puppies’ nose in milk when they don’t know what’s good for them. And you know what? Most invigorating aroma ever! You’d think coffee is invigorating but in that moment, my neurons all started shouting in unison “FOOD!”. Three seconds later I got up and sniffed my way to the open pizza box, which fyi, was the best pizza I’ve ever had. But again, all is relative.

Comments (1)

  • At some stage I became dependent on black olives. They’d be added to anything, even breakfast porridge. Yuck! So I managed to wean myself off them for about a year. But I fell off the wagon and they have re-appeared on the menu a few weeks ago, in my home-made lentil hummus. Every now and then I open the fridge and stare at them, drooling at that alluring texture and aroma. Hi, my name is nuts4fruits and I’m a recovering olive addict.

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