Once when I was about 14, I visited my Grandfather and his wife in Birmingham, AL for spring break. I am still so happy I was able to spend that time with them, but while I was there, I experienced an abomination.
Princess Diana had just died, so we decided to hunker down and watch on the afternoon of her memorial. We had grapes, and a bit of leftover pizza, and Clara Ruth offered to make some grilled cheese to round out the meal.
It all looked so good sitting there on the plate, the bread toasted a perfect gold, the sandwiches cut into little triangles. I put it to my mouth and took a bite. That’s when I felt it. The hot mayonnaise, oozing from between the bread and cheese on both sides.
There was nothing I could do. I had to choke down the rest of that grilled cheese and mayonnaise sandwich.