On top of spaghetti

A couple of years ago, when I had a one-year gig at a lovely SLAC, the Snork Maiden and I used to hit the student dining center once in a while for dinner.  She’d always have some eccentric combination of things, like a bowl of cream of broccoli soup and a bowl of Lucky Charms (she was astounded by the giant cereal dispensers).  We revisited that experience today with a short visit to Local College to the East, the one with which I’ll interview in Chicago.  Exploring their website, I’d become interested in an art show they have up, and it seemed like a good excuse to go poke around the campus a bit (not, of course, going anywhere near the English department).  We ate lunch in their student dining commons–a bowl of black bean chili for me, a plate of spaghetti for her.  At one point, as we ate, I was thinking about the job search and staring abstractedly but fixedly into the Snork Maiden’s plate.  She interrupted my reverie by saying, “Do you want a bite of this?  Or are you trying to predict the future by looking at a plate of pasta?”

The latter, actually, sweetie.  But I didn’t think it was that obvious.


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