A Pizza Parable

One evening after grabbing sunset beers with a new friend, I received the following texts from my boyfriend.

"Did you order a pizza? Or something?
Some guy just dropped stuff off. I paid him 81K."


"What? He said Carolina!"

"No. He dropped off a pizza? Maybe my mom sent an early birthday gift? I'm heading home."

"Well it's here. Looks terrible. See you soon."

I came home to the pesto-pine nut-mushroom-feta pizza, and, like the savage that I am, I ate half of it (4 slices to be exact). Conor doesn't like mushrooms, and I hate being wasteful, so in that moment it made sense to me to eat it. We were just about to go to dinner, but being my typical impatient self, I ate the food that was directly in front of my face instead of waiting for my boyfriend to finishing his work like a normal and polite person.

He closed his laptop and we went on a short walk to the rice field down our driveway. Not even a minute later we ran into a neighbor we'd never seen before.

"Did you guys get a pizza delivered by any chance?" she asked.

Yes, I responded.

"Oh! Ok. Did you eat it?"

Yes, I responded.

Conor explained the delivery situation while I became increasingly red in the face. Turns out, her name is Catalina. Catalina & Carolina. Simple misunderstanding. Only in Bali, right?

She insisted it wasn't a big deal. She even laughed about it, and said she was glad the mystery was solved. We shared some neighborly niceties and went back to our respective homestays.

I felt so selfish. A few minutes passed, and I grew more uncomfortable. The nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach told me something didn't feel right; I hurriedly grabbed some cash and went back to her homestay to give her money to buy a new dinner.

"Omg no!" She greeted me at the door. "It's totally fine. I actually think it's kind of funny."

"Seriously, take this," I protested.

"No, you're on holiday! Save your money," she said.

"So are you!" I countered.

"Seriously, this isn't necessary."

"Dude. I ate your dinner. A pizza magically appears at my door and I ate half of it like a fucking savage. Who does that?"
She started laughing at me.

"I'm a disgusting human!" I continued. "Please, let me buy you dinner," I said,  handing her the cash. "I need some good karma after eating someone else's food," I urged. "Get yourself a nice pizza that nobody else will claim as their own."

She grudgingly took my money, I think only to stop me from shoving it in her hand.

There's no big or important point to this anecdote; I just wanted to share a funny mishap that occurred. I did feel good after giving her the money, so hopefully some good karma will come my way. If there's any moral to take from this, however, I suppose it's that you should only eat food that you've personally ordered.

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