It's done.  I ate the house manager's salad.  I ate her chicken caesar salad from the fridge.  The empty to-go container's sitting on my bed.  I was stressed, I have a deadline fast approaching end of the month, with nothing, Jerry, nothing.  And moments earlier my drawer was stuck, so after a few tries I became enraged and my roommate showed me how to cool down, don't just ram it in, ease into it, he laughed, then you can—he didn't know I wasn't there but back into another flat and my head was down and I was chewing on the crunchy part of lettuce complimenting myself in my head about how clever I am with knowing how many bites to take from where and when and from whom and...it's all gone.  There's a big hole in her portion in the fridge.  I have to throw it away somewhere she won't spot. Another headache.