Manwich

So after finishing off one can of Manwich, I was very excited to come home from work and make some more Manwich. I grilled up about a pound of lean ground beef and mixed in a can of barbecue flavored sloppy joe sauce. Just as it was simmering, nearly ready, I turned to grab the buns and toast one a little. My buns weren’t on the counter where they should be. I knew I had two buns left after the one I’d packed in the morning to have with my lunch.
This is where I should tell you I’m not very good at mornings. Typically if I get out the door before 8:00am, it’s because I’ve forgotten my lunch, my keys, my ID, or my phone. If I was supposed to mail a bill or a letter that day, then I probably forgot it. This morning I was surprised to get to work realizing that I’d managed to get all of that together.
When my hamburger buns weren’t on the counter I realized that I may not have done as well as I thought. They weren’t on either kitchen counter or over the refrigerator, where I sometimes keep bread. This means I did something stupid with them.
Okay, hamburger buns on my desk? On the bed? Microwave? No, no no. In the cabinets, under the sink? The freezer. That would be a dumb place to put buns — not there either. Not in the refrigerator either. Check the bathroom, check the trash can. Sometimes I like to take one thing I’m supposed to throw away and one thing I need to keep and of course throw away the thing I want to keep. I didn’t do that.
At this point, I’m convinced that somebody came into my apartment while I was at work and stole two hamburger buns. Even though I still can’t remember what I did with those buns, I knew I had two buns left. I was seriously about to call the police and report that there had been a break-in and robbery at my flat. The damage? A bag containing two hamburger buns, predestined to serve Manwich. Meanwhile, the Manwich is getting cold.

They were in the recycle bin. I had already buried them under some junk mail that I brought up with me on the way in.