To all of the questionable meatloaf and soggy vegetables,
It was not me, it was you. And no, you are not missed. I no longer think of you, desire you or have any regrets (with the exception of a few un-shedable pounds). But I do remember the good times, and I can appreciate them. How could I ever forget?
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How would I forget your infinite supply of pasta with multiple (questionable) sauces? For breakfast, lunch and dinner nonetheless. How could I leave behind the memory of unlimited hamburgers and hotdogs, or better yet, the plethora of fountain drinks? Soup was a constant, salad was a must... despite the fact that the lettuce was never actually fresh. The carrots never really crunched, and the cucumbers always seemed a little too...mushy.
The all-you-can-eat soft serve ice cream hangouts, the piles and piles of breakfast cereal (always half spilled on the floor, mind you), the special occasions when the chicken tenders were actually decent... I loved you, but thankfully, I moved on.
More importantly, I moved on from the unidentifiable meat products. I moved on from the mushy vegetables or saggy salad bar. I moved on from eating three (or more) breakfast bagels on the rougher Saturday mornings. I moved on from smuggling out as many decent tasting yogurts or un-browned bananas from the cafeteria. You were a constant over-indulgence, and thankfully, I've moved on.
I'm thankful for the grease, the butter, or the plentiful carbs.
Sincerely,
Thankful Arteries of an Apartment Owner
