Peel Me A Grape


I was just thinking about how I wish I had someone to buy me grapes. It would be so nice not to have to stop at the grocery store on the way home from work.

Then I remembered an episode from my past that made me realize it might be best to be thankful for where I am and just go by my own damn grapes.

Cue dramatic soap opera music…

I’ve just gotten home from a week in the hospital with colitis. I am still randomly squirting blood out of my ass and have not had solid food in over a week. I think the one thing I might be able to stomach might just be a chicken pot pie from KFC.

Yeah, this was way before I was diagnosed with Celiac Disease and still ate normal people food.

The psycho ex is sent on a quest to get my the chicken pot pie.

He returns much later with a partially eaten cup of mashed potatoes. According to him, the chicken pot pie was too expensive.

Fast food is too expense for someone you supposedly love. Someone who has been hospitalized and on a morphine drip for days. Someone who was denied any food or water for most of those days in case there was a need for emergency surgery.

I want my damn morphine drip back.

It’s a freaking chicken pot pie from KFC.

I didn’t ask for filet mignon. I didn’t even ask for Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream.

It’s not lobster… It’s chicken.

I’m not worth an obviously high end item on the KFC menu?

And, he wonders why I sent his sorry ass packing…

Excuse me?

Don’t ever let a man convince you that you’re not worth something that can be bought from a drive thru window.

Yeah, I’ll trudge to Kroger and buy my own damn grapes. Thank you very much.


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