|This is not the BLT you are looking for....|
But as I heard her bustling in the kitchen I had a Seinfeld moment when it occurred to me this was not the sandwich, so I leaped out of my chair and ran to the kitchen to make sure she knew I would be assembling my own BLT on this day and my voucher for one sandwich would be cashed in at a later date, preferably one where I was laying comfortably on the couch watching NFL football.
I envision it this way: it's the fantasy football championships, my teams all go nuts. Everyone wants to score. All of the rookies and backups I have been cultivating so nurturingly on my bench all come of age and take the field, ending up stars by the afternoon's end. I celebrate by calling the kitchen to put in an order for a BLT on white with real mayonnaise, and take a sip of my frosty beverage awaiting the arrival of my sandwich.