Royalty in kingdom of order remorse

Better Half and I have a lot in common, including the fact that we’re very good at what I call “order remorse.”

This is a condition that apparently is not very treatable, because we have yet to be cured. There’s no panacea, no anecdote for us.

History teaches us lessons, but, alas, we make for poor students in this case.

If order remorse had a kingdom and royalty to rule it, Better Half and I probably would be its king and queen.

The “order remorse” happens when we’re eating out.

He rarely orders the right thing, or orders oddly.

If we were to go to a world-renowned steakhouse, for example, he’d order a pork chop and then be unhappy about it.

Duhhhh.

Or if we went to a seafood buffet, he’d get fried chicken.

Drrrrrrr.

I can’t brag and say I’m any better. I generally want him to order first.

That way I have more time to decide what I’ll regret getting.

If we’re at a greasy spoon place, for instance, where the food is that great grub that ought to be served with a defibrillator, I do something impulsive and stupid like order a salad — with no dressing. But extra croutons, please.

Then I see someone getting what I should have — with a side order of defibrillator — I can only shake my head and sadly crunch on a crouton or two.

Order remorse.

Sometimes we think we’re safe ordering breakfast.

Wrong.

Should have ordered bacon, not ham.

Why’d I get blueberry pancakes when I really wanted French toast?

Better Half and I went out to the county fair the other evening, our stomachs all set for fair food. Yes!

We quickly settled in to what is our decision drill — walking up and down the midway, salivating and scouting all the food vendors to figure out what to get first.

I got a plate of nachos with meat, cheese and peppers and dove into it. This is great, I thought to myself, until I realized I was eating peppers with some heat, and my mouth was on fire.

Help!

Better Half got a beef sandwich, then wished he’d ordered sausage instead.

Someday we’ll make the right choices the first time around.

Until then, all hail the king and queen of order remorse.

(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at jkiaski@heraldstaronline.com.)

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