The other day I had a diet breakdown and went through McD’s drive through. I did not have any children with me, and I was able to enjoy the moment.
Until the food was gone. Then I had to figure out what to do with the rubbish and the lingering aroma of chicken selects and french fries.
1. I can’t leave the evidence rubbish in the car—I’ll get busted by hubby and the kids, and frankly, that sucks all the pleasure out of the experience.
2. I can’t sneak the evidence rubbish into the house rubbish—see #1 above.
3. I can’t even toss it onto our own rubbish stand outside because my children have radar that will draw them out of the house, away from the TV/game they are enjoying to see what I tossed up there.
4. If I DO toss it on my rubbish stand, invariably the dogs will drag it down or the wind blow it and McD’s paper will be strewn all over the yard, and everybody automatically looks at me. I should be insulted, I know. Either that, or the helpful father-in-law will wait to ask me when hubby is around, “What did you throw away as you came in?” It all spells BUSTED.
5. Sometimes I drive around all the village roads looking for a rubbish stand that is easily available, but not visible to the owners or their dogs. Not always successful with that.
If I manage to get the rubbish disposed of, there is still the problem of the lingering aroma. I must drive around for approximately fifteen minutes with windows down (depriving myself of air con in the process), and still Daughter or Son will get in the car hours later and say accusingly, “You went to McDonald’s without us!” Most often I try to deny it, but sometimes guilty feelings and a fear of hell fire for lying to innocent children makes me say, “Yes, yes I did.”
Obviously, the best solution to this situation is to stop going to McDonald’s. But I can’t realistically foresee that happening. So instead, I am going to write a letter to McDonald’s headquarters and ask them to work with government research and development to make self destructing containers, cups, and bags. When you are done, wrap them all up together and whistle, clap, or something and POOF! Up they go in smoke—air freshening smoke!
I think this would move world peace forward by leaps and bounds. How? I’m sure you’ve heard the quote, “The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.” If the hands that rock those cradles could get just one friggin’ undetectable, untraceable trip to McDonald’s a week to relieve their stress, we would have a world full of peaceful, satisfied rockers. “If momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” Think about it.
