Okay, so. All week, when I haven’t been craving kappa maki, I’ve had this little nagging voice in the back of my head reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve really had some God Damned Hummus. It’s been whispering sweet nothings about the fat free roasted pepper medley available at my friendly local hippy-mart, but I haven’t been home and so my hummus needs have gone unfulfilled.

This morning I woke up, and it was still there. It’s all like: "Dude. Fucking hummus, already. Seriously. With some celery sticks? Shit yeah." I finally agreed that shit yeah, I could really go for some hummus, and managed to get up and dressed in only about another three hours. There was rain, but I was on a mission. A hummus mission.

So I get to the hippy-mart and I’m looking around because I’m easily distracted by shiny things and bright colors, and because it’s still such a novelty to have a grocery store on my street where that which is being sold is not only packaged in English but isn’t even expired yet. I’m checking out the blue corn tortilla chips and the slightly suspicious instant miso packets and finally I make my way over to the fridge case, ready to grab some serious armloads of hummus.

Only, there’s no hummus. No, I mean really: none. Not even the gross kinds I don’t like that much. There are things in hummus-sized little tubs that at first give me the impression that there is hummus, but on closer inspection they prove to be things like vegan butter (hold me, I’m scared) and various types of paste. My entire world is collapsing, here. How can there be no hummus? I even ask the surly, burly proprieter what exactly the deal might be with the whole no hummus thing, but he is unsympathetic.

So I mean, I got some mushroom soup and these sesame seed flatbread things, but it’s so not what I wanted at all, and now I’m too lazy to heat up the soup so I’m sitting here hungry and morose and still craving hummus. It’s tough to be me.