Sitting at the old Training Table restaurant, eating dinner by myself, I came to a couple of realizations.

First, I suck at eating and reading at the same time. Now, I don’t mean that the put-words-together-to-make-sentences part of my brain shuts off whilst enjoying a tasty burger. I am talking about the physical logistics of trying to hold a book open with one hand well enough to manage my food and drink with the other. Granted, this was a two-fisted, messy burger, but even the heavenly cheese fries proved to be too much.

After this humiliating defeat, I felt so pleased when I was able to walk and chew gum at the same time. Look at me, Ma. I’m gonna be alright.

Second, I really love my wife and hate when we are apart. This, of course, wasn’t a new revelation by any means. But I was halfway through my cheese fries when I realized I was tunneling through to the fries in the middle of the pile: the ones that don’t have much cheese on them. I usually do this when eating with my wife so that she can get more of the cheesy fries but she wasn’t there and instantly my heart hurt.

No matter how tasty the food. (And it was.) No matter how entertaining the book. (And it really is.) I would have much rather been doing anything else just as long as my wife was with me.