Day 117: Booby Prize

I used my "get out of cooking dinner pass" tonight. Lucky for my husband I bought a pre-made salad last night so all he really needed to do was toss the salad, bake some fake, sesame, chicken wings in the oven and mix everything together. Voila, instant dinner. And with very little effort.  It was heavenly to not have to cook or come up with an idea that included something green in it. It was heavenly to sit lazily on the couch and read my book, mumbling an occasional "umhm" when asked a question. Yes, heavenly to just walk into the kitchen, sit down and eat.

My day began with a walk to SÖS, short for Söderssjukhuset (hospital), for a routine mammogram. Now, from personal experience I know that mammograms can be unpleasant, but downright painful? That was not retained in my memory. The nurse had my boob squished in the torture device and then told me to relax my free arm, scoot my left hip in closer, but not that much, ok, good, now look up to the ceiling and freeze. I looked up but I don't remember seeing anything. All I could think about was the machine releasing its grip on me. After the torture was over and I was on my way out I remembered that I was supposed to take a look at the lights in the ceiling, as they are from the lighting company I work for. I did remember to look at them before I walked out of the mammography unit. They were very nice but I think a poster with a smiley face or kitten would have made me feel better. 

As I walked into the hospital and I was leaving the hospital, there was the warm, enticing, scent of freshly, baked kanelbullar (cinnamon buns) wafting out into the lobby. I looked up and saw the Pressbyrå convenience store. Everywhere you go in Sweden, if there is a Pressbyrå around, there is also the scent of freshly, baked kanelbullar. I think they must have a pipe that goes directly from the oven to the stores exterior and they continually pump the steaming scent out and onto unsuspecting saps like me. You seriously cannot escape it. You may think you've gotten away but next thing you know you are standing in a bakery ordering a kanelbulle to go. 

I was headed to the bus stop on my way to work and could not stop thinking about how lovely a kanelbulle would be. It was now pumping through my veins like a drug. I had to have more. I was forced to stop by the bakery, which happens to be right across the street from my bus stop, where I "picked up" a kardemombulle to go. It is almost exactly like a kanelbulle but made with an insane amount of cardamom (and butter) and pretty much causes a spontaneous food-gasm as you take the first bite. I needed the cardamom. I deserved the cardamom. After getting pancake boobs, I needed a treat, a (booby) prize if you will. I probably should have bought one for each boob. I just might have to swing by the bakery again tomorrow for retribution. What do you think?