I’ve never officially celebrated this “holiday” even though I’ve wished people Happy Pi Day for several years. Since I firmly believe in attending all of the leasing office’s free food and drink events because they raise my rent yearly, I signed up for the pizza “social.”
It was social in the respect that as one made their individual pizza, we all talked, but as our stylish carrying case denoted, we had to bake them at home. With half a mind on my newfound diet, I grabbed an already cooked whole wheat mini pizza crust, smothered it with pesto and topped it with things that were mostly diet-compliant (I think. The crust itself wasn’t!).
The leasing agent suggested adding fresh basil, which wasn’t part of the pizza bar, but I had some at home. She also told us that since everything was technically cooked, we only had to heat it in the oven until the cheese melted.
Except she ran that advice together with a separate thought and came out with: “Have fun until the cheese melts.” Me being me, that statement sounded a lot like sexual innuendo. I thought of my neighbors who only seem to hit it at 2 AM on a Tuesday or Wednesday on the other side of my bedroom wall. That’s when their cheese melts.
I admitted wanting to knock on the wall and tell her to send him over after they were done. I initially thought about asking the leasing agent who those neighbors were, but decided against knowing, which everyone present agreed was the better option.
Instead, I heated my pizza at home until the cheese melted and enjoyed it with a glass of Malbec. Happy Pi Day!