As recently as two weeks ago I didn't like pesto. I'm not sure what turned me off, but if I saw something with pesto on it, it may as well have been topped with pigeon shit. Or even worse, guacamole. Both are green, and both look a little bit like diarrhea. I don't like to eat green things, and I only eat my shit whole.
Then, when I was on vacation in August someone made their own guacamole. Out of respect I tried it, and it tasted a little bit like nothing. So, I learned to deal with guacamole. Nowadays, when I get a quesadilla and they ask me if I want guac on the side, I say yes. I don't actually eat it, but it can touch my plate, and I feel like the Mexican guy behind the counter respects me a little bit more than that douchebag behind me who doesn't get it.
Fast forward to last Tuesday. Tuesdays are my wife's night to go bowling. She goes straight from work and gets home around 7:30 or 8. So, it's up to me to get the baby fed and ready for bed, and to make dinner for Kym and I. I don't know how single parents do it, because this is no easy task. Most nights I make something easy that can just be thrown in the oven when Kym gets home. Last week I wanted something different. I decided I would make chicken sandwiches. I tried to pick a flavor that we both like, and that was Italian. I have no idea if pesto is even Italian, but for some reason I decided that I'd put pesto on them. And, of course, I made the greatest chicken sandwich of all time.
The downfall to making the greatest sandwich of all time is that I've become addicted to pesto now. Last night we had beef stew and I found myself wondering if it would taste good with pesto. In the middle of the night the baby wakes up and I bring her downstairs to have a bottle. As I get the bottle out of the fridge, I see the pesto looking at me through the corner of my eye. I can feel that it wants me as bad as I want it. I get angry at Daylight savings time because 4:00am is not an appropriate time to eat pesto. 5:00am, yes, but 4:00am is just absurd.
I don't even know where I'm going with this. I think I just feel guilty because I just had another chicken sandwich with pesto. I'm so ashamed. Tell me you'll still love me when I'm turning tricks on the streets for a bite of some four cheese pesto ravioli.