This afternoon, I planned to go to a nice Brazilian BBQ dinner with some friends.
In the hours leading up to it, I got super excited.
I love meat. Steaks, sausages, pork, chicken, burgers, it’s all good. I kept picturing the BBQ, and how good it would taste. On top of that, I had a small lunch. By the time dinner time rolled around, I was all ready to demolish the Brazilian BBQ.
We got there, sat down, and began.
A spicy chicken drumstick? Mmmm…
A chorizo sausage? Yes please.
Top sirloin? Filet mignon? Chicken breast? Chicken hearts? Hell yeah.
And then it began.
The meat didn’t change at all. Yet with each bite, it began to taste worse. It started slowly, and then became more and more evident, until I wasn’t enjoying the meat at all.
Still, they kept coming around with more meat. It looked so good. I couldn’t stop asking for another helping.
Fast forward 20 minutes and I was gone. I wasn’t even stuffed. The meat just didn’t taste good at all. I started to eat the bread. And the pineapples.
Anything but the meat.
There is nothing more demoralizing than being destroyed by something you love. I’m glad that things in life don’t just flow to me as easily as the meat at the Brazilian BBQ.
Uggghhhhh. Too much of a good thing just isn’t that awesome.
P.S. This is post number #26 in a 100 day blogging challenge. See you tomorrow!
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