The Grab And Go

I have been in recent months trying to eat better, as I think I've said. I haven't quite gotten there, and how far do I want to go anyway? It seems to me that I can't eat perfectly and have a reasonable expectation of living forever, so some slip-ups are inevitable and acceptable. I have not fallen back on the ravioli or its like, and my new habits make it easy to stay away. There are other things that I haven't given up, such as the occasional basket of chicken fingers and such.

There are also items that are new to my palate. The grocery store sells cold cut sandwiches, which used to be a staple in my diet on account of being good, cheap and ready to go. I don't go for those anymore, but I do like the hot sandwiches they sometimes have. Be it their answer to Chick Fil-A's signature sandwich or their fish filet equivalent, there's something really appealing about those things to me. What is it?

I guess I see a certain romance in the man on the go. It's easy to place myself in the persona of some slovenly (but principled) newspaperman or police detective who grabs a greasy burger or something while eagerly engaged in the pursuit of some bad guy. I'm Dirty Harry with a hot dog, or Columbo with a bowl of chili. I'm sure that a non-cop will come to mind if I apply myself, only I don't have the time just now.

They really are tasty and convenient, and I don't think they're all that bad for me. One can't have too much fish these days, and I suppose there are better methods of preserving the nutrients in chicken, but I'm just delighted by the ability to stop in, grab one, run it across an automatic checker and rush out on my way, begrudgingly allowing my body the fuel it must have in order to fulfill the demands on it that I make.