Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Shane: This is for you

My Dear Shane,

Do you remember our glory days when we you would blow off work and meet up for overpriced peanut butter sandwiches? * sigh * I do.  Our glory days, my dear, have to come an end.

Oh, alas! What a fool I was today! I endured the stomach-sinking disappointment that only a Simon Pearce aficionado could possibly understand. (For the record, Valentine's Day 2010 is still the best Valentine's Day ever; the Simon Pearce building is still vacant; I'm still crushed Simon left PA; and those snow pictures still make me want to throw up.) There I was, so pleased that I had grabbed a metered spot with 42 minutes still left on the clock.  I skipped up to the door, grabbed the handle, and yanked.  And yanked again.  That's when I started feeling stupid.  "Oh, of course!" thought I.  "I should PUSH the door instead!"  But, it was not to be.  My Wednesday afternoon PB, cheddar, bacon, and pickle on toasted white bread was not to be had.  That's when I read the sign on the door ... the sign BEHIND the sign with the store hours:

Oh, the PAIN!!! Oh, the heartache!!! Those sneaky jerks shut their doors nearly three weeks after my semester ended--three weeks after I dropped off the face of this neighborhood until January.

I was so shocked that I stood back and looked up and down the block. Had anyone seen me frantically tugging on the door like an idiot? Well, that guy over there shouting into his cell phone probably did, but who cares? Not me. Completely numb (and seriously hungry), I walked back to my car in the nasty, misty mess that was today's godawful weather.  (So appropriate--the irony isn't lost on me.) I tossed my purse on the floor of the car--alas! I actually had a five dollar bill to pay for my sandwich! actual cash!--and drove away from my prepaid meter.

Shane, my lovely peanut butter lunch husband, it looks like the fun has come to an end.  Shall we relive our one and only PB lunch one last time since our First Annual Reunion Lunch will not be taking place in March? Yes, we shall relive it!  WE SHALL!

Oh, peanut tables! You're so cute!

A true Friday Feast! We hardly knew what to do with ourselves!
Oh, the damage we left in our wake!  We were so heedless and careless!  Every last bite devoured! Every last cheddar Sun Chip consumed! ... and we didn't give a damn who saw us!
Oh, peanut trivia! I never had the opportunity to completely memorize you in person!  Praise be for my photographic memory ... and this photograph!
Oh, Lunch Husband! Where will we go?? WHAT WILL DO?? Most importantly, what the hell are we gonna have for lunch???

As usual, my mother had little sympathy for my problems.

Me: [bursting through my mother's front door ... because I knew she had food in her fridge] "Oh, mother! You'll never believe my misfortune!! PB&U is GONE!!! Just like Simon!! It's Simon all over again!!"

My Mom: [glancing up at me from the top of her newspaper] "Does that mean you can't have lunch with that Wahlberg boy anymore?  I'm sure you can eat lunch somewhere else."

[Not kidding Shane, she really said that.  You don't even have a name in my family--it's just "Oh right, that lost Wahlberg brother ... Tiff's husband--that's right!"]

Just my luck! My favorite Friday place is gone.  The sign on the door said that the Moorestown Mall location is still open; however, Shane, even though I like you very, very much, I'm not sure that I'm so into this that I'll cross the bridge into Jersey for what is ... well ... just a peanut butter sandwich.

Happier times.

Well my dear, it looks like our fun is over.  Perhaps we will find a new place to call our own? Or will our love [for PB ... and bacon, cheddar, and pickle] die a slow death? Perhaps we will have to make our own sandwiches?! God forbid! I'm sure our fate will reveal an answer to us.


LJC said...

This might be my favorite post ever on TPC.

I can't believe I missed this place :( Probably better I never knew.

Jess said...

What a bummer! I always thought I would go there eventually, but I guess the cards weren't in our favor

Jo Harper said...

I'm still not over it. But, one never really recovers from this kind of betrayal. It's a cold, cruel world.

Wahlberg Boy, The Peanut Butter Husband said...

They say time heals all wounds. I say 'they' never endured the anguish born when a blossiming love affair built on the cornerstones of any great relationship- peanut butter, bacon & pickes- is suddenly and inexplicably interrupted. This interruption has been devastating, thus my inability to comment or speak about it for over a month now. However, the flames of the fire that burn red hot within me, for all things peanut butter, will not be tamped out. Nor will I allow the lack of commitment on the part of an establishment that I believed to share my passion stand in the way of a wonderful liason, and burgeoning tradition with you Peanut Butter Wife. I'm confident like the lighthouse leads a ship safely to shore, so too will our shared love of sweet & salty processed peanuts lead us back to one another.