Not Having It All

One particular day, perhaps thirty years ago, I decided to make a snack. A sandwich fit the bill. My thought process went something like this...

Sandwich = peanut butter and jelly.

But I like cheese. Yeah, a cheese sandwich sounds good.

Cheese sandwiches are so much better when the cheese melts. Am I allowed to use the griddle?

Waitaminute. I hate cleaning the griddle.

What about the toaster? Cinnamon toast is sweet like jelly and warm like a grilled cheese sandwich, but without the griddle. I could have toast.

But I like cheese. Mmm.

The logical-to-me conclusion was to spread butter on bread, then a thick layer of peanut butter, a wobbly pile of grape jelly and a slice of Velveeta cheese, sprinkled finally with cinnamon. I was starting to realize that was a lot of stuff for a sandwich, so I figured I'd even things out by skipping the top slice of bread. I popped the whole open-faced mess in the microwave and increased the cooking time. I didn't want to wait all those extra seconds for my fabulous creation, but figured it would be worth the wait.

Yeah, I was wrong.

One of the valuable lessons I began to learn that day was that even if I can "have it all," I don't want it all. Not at the same time, anyway.

I'm still learning, and it's a good journey.