On May 22nd, my wife and I plan to eat dinner at a restaurant.
In normal times, such a news item would not exactly make the family headlines. But since the pandemic struck, we have taken a cautious approach and eaten at restaurants only once or twice and then only if outside dining was available. For the last six months, a New England winter has deprived us of even that option.
However, on Wednesday, Sari got her second shot and I get mine on May 8th. And so, two weeks later, I can already see myself perusing an oversized menu at a favorite restaurant. Everything will look good and my only problem will be maintaining some restraint. While the bread, the wine, the appetizers, the salad, the steak, the pommes frites and the molten chocolate cake will look equally appealing at the outset, I fear their cumulative implications for a digestive system which has only a distant memory of such bounty.