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epitome of incomprehensibility
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A habanero managed to be this for me. Emotionally.
The car wasn't working (drained utilities battery, it's better now). Mom and I had to go places by bus. To a tea in the Dorval_Museum that turned out to be sold out. I hadn't registered ahead of time. I looked around the upstairs a bit, getting the highlights of Dorval's older history in my head and in my phone camera. The next stop was a store in Pointe-Claire where Mom was looking for outdoorsy clothes for Dad and Y. She found things. I lost my gloves.
And I was worried about getting back on time for work (online tutoring). Dad agreed to pick us up at 2. We had time to kill. I was hungry, un-lunchified. Tim Horton's was right there.
I asked for the "veggie bowl" before I specified the lime cilantro one. It was a dollar more expensive than the menu indicated. When I got it to the table and took an unexpectedly spicy bite, I realized they'd charged me for - and given me - the habanero one.
I didn't want unexpected spice. I wanted particular, familiar, not-so spicy spices. I'd had the lime cilantro one before and it was surprisingly good. (Side note for UK and US skites: Tim's is a chain better known for donuts than substantial food.) My throat tingled. The capsaicin annoyed me. "I didn't WANT this kind. And it was a dollar more."
Mom: "You could send it back."
Me: "I don't want to WASTE it." I ate a piece of the pepper itself to show my non-waste policy. Tears appeared at my eyes' corners - not frustration, just physical irritation. But the emotional irritation remained - I wanted to enjoy food and it was not being enjoyable. Still, this was the problem of a privileged, non-starving person. "I don't need to be grumpy," I said, grumpy - grumpy at myself being grumpy. I piled the rest of the habanero pepper slices on the container's open lid and dabbed at my smarting eyes. Mom tried not to laugh.
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