Parable, Allegory, Metaphor for Life, Whatever...

So I get into the office early today, and as I walk down the hall toward my office, I smell the really good smells of French toast and home fries.

My coworker, who always gets in at about 7:30, is sitting at her desk, eating a country breakfast.

I pop in, to do the usual "how was your weekend" rundown, but the entire time, she's sitting there eating this delicious-smelling challah French toast.

In my hand, I've got my little plastic bag from the fruit man on 59th and Park, with its virtuous bananas, granny Smiths, and a bag of baby carrots, which I eat mainly for the chewing sensation than anything else.

"Well," I finally say, "I'm going to go and resentfully eat oatmeal for breakfast."

We all laughed then, but I will admit to being resentful about eating healthy, good-for-your-heart oatmeal, while she sat there plugging wads of egg-fried bread into her piehole.

Sometimes I get tired of eating the things that are "good for me" all the fucking time. You know what? I want to stuff my face with challah French toast on a Monday morning, too!

I'm generally full of resentment right now, so much so that I can barely speak, in fact, knowing that if I do start to speak what will come out will be a howl of fury and rage, and I have to remind myself that yes, my coworker eats French toast for breakfast and Ranch 1 for lunch whenever she wants, but she's also (literally) 100 pounds overweight, is plagued by chronic ailments and pain, and gets "I have to leave early" sick at least twice a month, and would I trade places with her?

Not in one second, not for a million dollars.

But I still wonder sometimes what must it be like to wake up and think, yeah, today, like yesterday, and the day before, I'm gonna eat French toast and Ranch 1.