Sometimes I Just Want to Cry

So there I am, fretting over my budget and all the upcoming expenses of moving, and I think, "Well, at least there are some box lunches left from yesterday's meeting." Looking forward to a free lunch followed by a free dinner at GMHC, I skip downstairs to the refrigerator, where I find, to my dismay, no lunches. I mean, there were twenty of them in there last night. They weren't thrown out. Someone scammed all but three of them, and the last were taken buy the folks to whom I so generously offered them this morning (when I still thought there were plenty). To say I lose my temper would be an understatement. Still, I get myself under control, grudgingly go to the bank to withdraw some cash from my overdraft account, and scoot on down to Wendy's to take advantage of their cheap fries. I order a single and medium fries. Placated by the $3.88 total but still slightly despondent, I trudge back to the office, smoking my second cigarette in fifteen minutes. Everything seems to be going okay until I take a bite out of my sandwich. The damn thing is just a burger on a bun. No mayonnaise. No lettuce. No tomato. Sure, I said "no cheese," but this is ridiculous. Did I do something to deserve this?