Monica is always preaching to me the importance of eating “organic.” Oregon is chock full of “organic” stuff. I tell her that everything that is alive is “organic.” Dog pooh is “organic” but I’m not about to spread it on toast. She gets a little peeved at me when I bring this up. Yesterday she went to work and packed a nice little turkey pastrami/cheese sandwich with some wonderful organically shade-grown baby lettuce that she got at the farmer’s market. During her lunch break at work, she had just finished one half of the sandwich and was about to pick up the other half to eat it when she spotted a big, fat, healthy, fluorescent green caterpillar sitting on top of her sandwich. Yes, the little guy was thriving very nicely on the baby organic lettuce and decided to make an appearance by climbing out from between the slices of rye bread, make his way to the top and proudly beat his chest with 20 of his 40 legs as if to say,
“I am caterpillar; hear me roar!” I told her later he was actually saying, “You monster! You ate my children!” whilst shaking his 20 tiny fists at her.
Moral of the story: Wash your produce.