Amy Lu's View

“…f*#k we have a box”

I love Valentine’s Day. I love sushi*. But combining those things this week sent me into a tizzy. 

This is a story about me getting stressed out about getting takeout sushi on Valentine’s Day. 

• It’s a story about me being stressed with not being able to find city parking on a dark rainy night when I don’t feel like I can see terribly well. 
• It’s a story about me being stressed about not knowing how much sushi to order.
• It’s a story about me being stressed about wasting food. 
• It’s a story about me being stressed about how long something is going to take and “wasting time.”
• It’s a story about me being stressed about not being in control.
• It’s a story about me being stressed about “making a bad decision.”
• It’s a story about me being likely to get stressed way too easily over small things (often because I imbue them with great symbolic meaning, such as “my failure at ordering the correct amount of sushi = my lack of judgment and clarity.”)

The details of the story aren’t actually all that interesting, but here they are anyway: I spent days thinking about if I should get sushi takeout on Valentine’s Day from a local spot that I’ve been wanting to try now for years. Valentine’s Day seemed like a good day for a special treat, and I would be in the area anyway because my singing lesson was close by…but the sushi joint often looked very busy so I had several doubts and misgivings. How long would it take? Where would I park? Where would I wait for the sushi? Would I have to stand outside in the rain?

I had Plan Bs, but, at the last minute I decided to order sushi. The app said it would only take 20-25 minutes for my order to be ready. 

Well, an hour after I had placed my order, I was waiting in the restaurant and freaking out. I couldn’t stop thinking about HOW I HAD RUINED VALENTINE’S DAY. Clearly, I had ordered sushi for 40 people and the overworked staff wasn’t going to be able to complete making all that sushi by midnight. 

Approximately one hour and 5 minutes after I had almost cried in the sushi place while texting Chad about my colossal failure, I sent him the above message that we had a box full of sushi.

And about 20 minutes after sitting down to our sushi supper, all the sushi was gone (the box was actually fairly small, or maybe we just eat an abnormal about of sushi, but I was happy there were no leftovers). I was reveling in the yumminess of the sushi. I was thinking I could get takeout from there again, now that I’m more knowledgeable about how much sushi to order and know how the takeout process works. 

Maybe I’ll even know– and remember–not to have a meltdown and assume the worst the next time I am literally, or metaphorically, waiting for sushi.  

*Why am I eating sushi if I’m a vegetarian? I’m only mostly vegetarian–a pescatarian who eats fish for special occasions and feels guilty about it. And, I didn’t eat that much fish in this instance because I got mostly vegetarian sushi which I know isn’t really sushi but mostly worked for me.