I ate a piece of (previously undiscovered) heaven just now.
A sandwich. From my own kitchen. Thinly sliced turkey on sliced whole wheat. With melted monterey jack, the last of the guacamole salsa, and lots of really mild honey mustard that I brought home in a little unopened plastic cup from Arctic Circle. I cut it in triangle halves and scooped the rest of the cottage cheese into a small bowl. Then sat on my chaise and feasted.
Yes, heavenly. No one ever said heavenly can’t taste spicy and wholesome, especially to a stomach that’s eaten nothing since this morning. The honey mustard dripped all over my fingers and my place and my palms. It was a small pleasure to lick it off my palms and mop up the last of it with the crust.
Wow. I’ve just written about a sandwich.
It was that good.