Something Strange

       Something rather strange happened today.
       I had a doctor’s appointment and as a sort of reward after going to the doctor, I like to stop at Popeye’s Chicken on the way home.
       I have been a Popeye’s fan for a long time, ever since I discovered it in Toronto maybe 20 years ago. I have joyfully eaten it in several cities around the world since then, from Manhattan to Beijing. And I not only like Popeye’s, I also like KFC, grocery store fried chicken and will even, if desperate, eat Church’s.
       Tom seems to be amused by my love for something so unhealthy and lowbrow, and makes a point of seeking out fried chicken joints for me when we are on the road. As a result, I have also eaten at some famous fried chicken sources, including Stroud’s near Kansas City, and Prince’s Hot Fried Chicken Shack in Nashville. Yummmm….
       So stopping at Popeye’s, clearly on the way to and from my doctor’s office, especially when it was obviously lunchtime, seemed like a natural move today. To be honest, I had made the appointment for midday with the knowledge that it would be a great excuse to stop at Popeye’s.
       But I drove right by.
       I found myself thinking instead about the vegetables I could put in a veggie wrap. I knew I had some delicious guacamole, some super-crisp mini-cucumbers and tiny grape tomatoes. I had roasted peppers in a jar and fresh mint from the garden. And I had baby carrots to munch on as well.
       I actually found the thought of fried chicken (even with a hot buttery biscuit) rather unappealing compared to the fresh, flavorful food at home.
       What’s happening to me? And please tell me, how do I make it stop?