Fifteen year old Square Piece pleaded, “No! Not the cupcake pans!” Collapsing into a puddle on the kitchen floor, “Puh-leeeeease don’t make me wash the cupcake pans!”
Fifteen year old Square Piece was not trying to shirk the responsibility of doing the dishes. No, fifteen year old Square Piece was trying to steer clear of anything that was kin to soggy bread. (And if liners weren’t used in the cupcake pan, then that awful, thin, bread-like film would be lining each cup.)
I hate soggy bread, okay? The squishy consistency upsets me to my very core. In the same way that spiders or snakes or heights might make you queazy, so also has soggy bread had such an affect on me. Fortunately in my maturity, I’ve found a way to talk myself through soggy bread encounters without showing my true colors (though the one dead giveaway is that I still have to order French Onion Soup without the bread on top).
But once upon a time…
Yes, once upon a time if you chased me with soggy bread, I’d take off running, flailing, screaming and choking back tears. If you touched me with soggy bread? Well, you’d probably find me rocking myself back and forth in a fetal position for the next fifteen minutes, shuddering, shivering, and – again – choking back tears.
Once my coworkers thought it would be funny to place a slice of soggy bread on my salon station. I kept about a 15 foot distance and refused to make eye contact with the bread. It was removed.
On another occasion, one of my coworkers accidentally cornered me, wondering if I wanted to try a certain bread dipped in a certain soup. I nearly scaled the wall trying to get away.
When I was in high school working at Pizza Oven, if I was on dish duty, I didn’t think twice to call a friend to come and rescue me if – heaven forbid – crust happened to be floating in the sink.
*Blech. Still shuddering.*
So there you have it. Now you know.
Today, if the tomatoes are making my sandwich bread too mushy, I just have to turn it upside down to be sure that it’s not looking at me. As long as I keep myself distracted I can finish the sandwich. I’d call that progress, wouldn’t you?
LOL…definitely progress…I can’t eat soggy bread…but don’t mind cleaning it up:)
Yes! you are making progress.
Donovan definitely has your sensitive soul.
He got nauseous watching 2012.
oh my goodness! how did you ever handle kp or washing your dishes at the dish washing station at tmi. you must have kept away from the first rinse bucket and there was usually floating soggy bread in the first wash bucket too. I remember lots of times during boot camp that this was the case.
TMI might have been where this all began. Not only were the dish washing stations disgusting, but I was chased and tormented with soggy bread (or… people holding soggy bread) on several occasions.
For all these months, I’ve been waiting patiently for you to talk about soggy bread. I knew it had to be coming sooner or later. 🙂 It’s kinda weird, but I think fondly of the words “soggy bread” because of the fact that I always thought it was sweet that you were afraid of it.
A ha ha ha! Oh Sue. I often think of you when I come across soggy bread. With working in a restaurant this comes around a good bit. Bleck. I do love me some french onion soup. Yummy! I guess you wouldn’t be able to do communion with dipping the bread into the wine either. Soggy bread is kind of gross when you think about it. Ewwww
soggy bread is THE WORST!