Sushi for Breakfast

It began so innocently, with the noblest of intentions....

My lovely wife and I are broke. In fact, we've accelerated past broke, and probably are approaching "brizzoke". This has reached the point where I've started to economize, and for those who aren't familiar with a Jeremy who is wondering how he will make rent at the end of the month, that means that I have reached a sufficient level of panic that I find myself thinking, "You shouldn't drink that soda. There are only two left and they need to last." Eating out is a luxury on the par with leasing a new Lexus, or departing on a spontaneous trans-Atlantic cruise.

This morning I left the apartment, thinking to myself that I didn't want to drink one of the last four Dr. Peppers in the place, after all, the soda has to last. I didn't grab breakfast, thinking that I could hold out until lunch, teach my classes, and be able to go home and eat something there....maybe ramen, soup, or something else I can whip together quickly.

First, the thirst came. I needed to cross the campus to submit some paperwork (in an unrelated aside, I've finally finished all of the paperwork for Fall Semester of 2010, and can now start working on the current term) in the beaurocratic heart of the University. The Student Services building never ceases to amaze me, as it has the same dehumanizing effect on me now as a graduate student and teaching fellow that it had on me as a new student at the school. The building and its staff tend to silently scream at you that you don't matter, you are just another body going through the turnstile. Take your form and wait your turn.

On the way back, I stopped at the Union, thinking that perhaps I would cave and indulge in a Coke or a Dr. Pepper. Even in hard times, $1.50 is not an unheard-of indulgence. That was when I saw the sign.

It beaconed to me like a siren, luring my ship to be dashed upon its rocky shores. For those unfamiliar, sushi has its own aesthetic; good sushi having been well rolled, beautifully cut,  and precisely arranged into a visual feast comparable its flavor. Seeing well made sushi evokes a visceral reaction that is difficult to describe; a gnawing hunger in the pit of one's stomach that can only be filled in a singular way.

Naturally, the packaged product does not approach the signage, but almost without thinking I discover myself in my office once again, eating spicy shrimp rolls while sipping on a Mexican Coca-Cola (the one with the real sugar made all the more flavorful by its real glass bottle). Suddenly, I find myself realizing that I'm now $8.00 poorer, and the nagging hole in pit of my stomach that was opened by that cursed sign has not been filled. I am instead a man who tried to stop a tidal wave with a handful of corks out of old wine bottles; having plunged the available tool into the deluge, only to find them completely useless at stemming the tide of hunger. I need real sushi. The kind you see in the pictures. I need it soon.

 Ladies and gentlemen, I have had unfulfilling sushi for breakfast. Now I have to figure out how to break it to the wife....