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Sadly I report that Mrs. Peaves has sprouted a bunion. The result of which is, yours truly has lingering Dyspepsia. I realize that will require some explaining. If you don't know, bunions can be quite painful. In Mrs. Peaves' case, the pain is “excruciating” ( her words). The bunion has put her off her game, so to speak. She cannot spend time on her feet and that has kept her out of the kitchen. Because she is not cooking our meals, I am left to fend for myself, which means I have been eating an overabundance of, oh dear me, fast food. Ordinarily I do not consume such rubbish. But with Mrs. Peaves on the bench, I have been forced to turn to clowns, pig-tailed little girls, chihuahuas and other such creatures for sustenance. It pains me. And I mean that. Specifically it pains me in the gastrointestinal area. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I have gas. As I am quite certain the act of moving through a drive-through does not cause such discomfort, I can reasonably assume the source of the gas is what I pick up when driving through them. And since we've come to the subject of fast food establishments, I have a few points I'd like to make concerning their many shortcomings. I recently purchased a burrito from a well known chain's drive through. I was very busy that day and had to eat on the run, so to speak. The burrito was delivered to me in a paper sack which contained the wrapped burrito, one napkin and 16 little tubes of hot sauce. I would have rather had 16 napkins, but never mind. Pulling the burrito from the bag I noticed a bit of onion on the outside of the wrapper. I unrolled the wrapper further and found a bit of tomato. One more fold and I reached a bit of lettuce. Finally I uncovered the burrito, wondering how all the odd bits of vegetables had found their way to the outside of the packaging. On another day I purchased a fish sandwich. Unwrapping it I discovered the fish portion glued to the bottom bun with a slice of cheese, but it had been placed so haphazardly on the bun that the fish was situated half on and half off said bun. On top was an enormous glob of tartar sauce covered by the top bun, which was situated directly upon the fish portion. The end result was a very lopsided sandwich, one that could not be corrected due to the fish being glued to the bottom bun via the cheese. One would assume that sandwich construction methods are taught to restaurant employees. So why can't they get it right? On yet another day I ordered a cheeseburger, which I don't ordinarily do simply because my history with such menu items is less than stellar. I shall explain. My restaurant karma is dismal. I say that because, if there is a bad bit of lettuce, a gnarly slice of onion or an unripe portion of tomato within the kitchen of any given establishment, I can be relatively certain that it will be bound for my plate. My track record with such unsavory findings is iron clad. I have lost count of the times I have peeled back the top bun of a cheeseburger to find, not a slice of tomato, but instead a half green tomato butt or, worse still, the bumpy top of the tomato, that I myself throw into the garbage when I slice a tomato at home. Other times I deconstruct a burger and find that tough outer slice of onion that, again, I chuck into the trash when slicing an onion at home. But home and fast food restaurants are worlds apart. And in future I believe I shall confine myself to home, where I shall busy myself with tending to Mrs. Peaves speedy recovery. I do hope she will ignore the gas, for however much longer it lasts.