What a Ham

The thing about sharing a household with another person is that you're subject to their neuroses and quirks. Like how some days you can barely get to our shower, as the bathroom floor is frequently littered with several days worth of yoga bottoms, pajamas, underwear, purses, hoodies, and umbrellas. What can I say? I'm messy.

One of Adam's 'things' is that many processed foods make him positively gag. Hot dogs, for one. Happen to be one of my favorite treats. Also on his 'hate' list is any meat or fish in a can. But he's away until Sunday, so I trucked out something I probably haven't had in fifteen years: canned ham.

Was it everything I imagined? Well, Suni came running when she heard the can open and got a whiff of its contents. This put me off the whole idea before I had even begun. But I soldiered on, breaking up the lump of ham and mixing it up with mayonnaise. Taking a taste, I was shocked at how salty it was. This, I did not remember. Again though, I gamely continued, slathering a piece of light rye with the mixture and topping it with lettuce leaves and another piece of bread.

I got through most of the sandwich before my lips started to pucker from the salt. And, with the remainder in the garbage, I've decided that there is absolutely no way I will have another. I guess I really am a red pepper hummus girl for good now.