Guilty Secrets

Everyone has guilty secrets.  Most, we assume, are small ones.  I have mine which, at my age, I’m not longer quite so guilty about.  They are small secrets.  I don’t, for example, put panty hose over my head and rob banks (although I could use the money).  There are no crimes, major or minor, in my list of guilty secrets.  But it’s time to clear this particular closet:

—My favorite pizza is Tombstone frozen.  People roll their eyes when I tell them that, especially since I live in Chicago, famous for pizza.  I don’t like our Chicago deep dish either.  But Tombstone pizza, bumped up a bit with more cheese, some fake hamburger, slices of tomatoes, and fresh mushrooms, and you have my idea of a perfect pizza.  So sue me.

—I don’t like my pasta al dente; I want it, if anything, overcooked.  Why eat raw pasta?

—I love Jeopardy! in the afternoons.  Assuming I can get the ABC channel, which I can’t always with my antenna reception.  But I love sipping my afternoon coffee and proving that I really don’t know as much as I would like to think I do.

—I can rarely pass a 7-11 without getting a Slurpee.  But I am a man of discriminating taste: I only drink the cola flavor.

—I don’t buy ice cream often, but when I do I do not dish it up; rather, I eat it right out of the carton.  I’ve never claimed to be elegant.

—I prefer white rice to brown.  I know brown is healthier, but, perhaps because white rice is what I grew up on, I prefer that.

—One of the great joys of retirement is an afternoon nap.  Anywhere from noon to 4:00 you may find me recumbent, snuggled up with my cat Jake.  I never nap for long, usually about half an hour, but it is a regular part of my afternoon and it never seems to interfere with night sleep.  And to make sure I’m not disturbed, I turn the ringer on my phone to silent.

As sins go, this is a pretty pallid list.  But it’s all I’ve got to offer.  But there’s always the chance I might still rob that bank.