I recently (about an hour ago) left the comfort of The Chair and drove to my favorite Italian restaurant for my daily dose of Buffalo Chicken Pizza. There’s probably a really good reason why Grande’s Pizza’s Buffalo Chicken Pizza has me hooked, but please don’t explicate it. It’s been my lunch for five straight days since I discovered it last week. Grande’s has a drive through, too, and the pizza slice comes right to the car window so I can drive it, carefully, back to my apartment, turn on The Young and The Restless, push back The Chair, and enjoy. Five straight days of spicy, greasy, doughy, crispy-edged, heavenly, cheesy goodness. And the chicken part makes it a healthy meal, right? Protein.

But not today: Grande’s was sold out. Could I wait 45 minutes for a new pizza to be cooked?

My first thought was “Why me? If only I’d gotten here sooner.” I sat, dazed and confused, staring at my steering wheel, upset, forlorn, distraught, near tears…maybe…this can’t be true.

“Cheeseburger with Cheddar Cheese. Broccoli and pickle. Hawaiian with pineapple, Ham, bacon, and salami. Rabbit with salmon roe. Dunning-Kruger with extra provolone. Taco shell with hummus.”

What? What were these words? What?

“And we’ve got plain cheese. Pepperoni.”

Ah. Possible substitutes for my beloved Buffalo Chicken. The gall of the clerk, the chutzpah, the expressionless lack of empathy. Couldn’t he see, couldn’t he feel my suffering? He assumed anything else could make me happy? Could take the place of my new found love? Oh, the humanity…

Long story short, I took a pepperoni home and it was damn good.

As much as I missed my Buffalo Chicken, I consoled myself with the knowledge Pepperoni was a decent substitute, if it was ever needed, again.

When one door closes, another blah blah blah…