When as many meals are needed as the amount for a large hospital, it is easy to understand bulk purchases. Still, we will not be having carrots for Christmas at this house.
I just got home from spending six days at the hospital following a knee replacement. The surgery went well. The care level was exceptional. The meals were… torture. A person came around each day with choices for the evening meal. One seldom received the choice they had given—but as a bonus prize—there was a generous supply of diced, boiled carrots. Lunch, mystery meat with carrots. Dinner, mystery meat with gravy and carrots. Every. Single. Day.
The ward I was in had no toaster, so toast for breakfast was not an option. It was either cereal or porridge, neither which I eat. Not to worry. Day or night – carrots were always an option.
One patient seemed perky, bouncy, friendly, and likeable. She was. As long as she got her way. When anything crossed her—she threw such a hissy fit with a tail on it that extra help was recruited from other wings to calm her down and bring her under control. I don’t blame her. I blame… carrots. She just got tired of diced, boiled carrots. And if she remains in the hospital through Christmas, and for anyone else who remains in that hospital for Christmas—she will have diced, boiled carrots for Christmas Day Dinner.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds with visions of carrots dancing in their heads…
Nope. We are done with carrots at this house until sometime after Christmas. I’m thinking of re-introducing them in 2023.