The thing about lobsters

As I pulled in to Wegman's Friday, I saw a giant sign where they normally boast their ridiculously large beer selection.

$6.99/lb. Live Lobster Sale! Fresh from Maine!

I can count on two hands how many times I've eaten lobster in my life, likely due to its cost-restrictive tendencies, but this is neither here nor there. I remember the experiences being near celestial.

After a quick cell phone call to my mother to inquire about what's involved in cooking live lobster, which seemed inhumane at best, it seemed I had no choice but to splurge.

"$6.99?!?! That's amazing," my mom said. "I've never seen anything cheaper than $10.99. Buy! Buy!" We are from The Most Landlocked State Known To Man, however. I'm sure $10.99 is a wicked deal in Kansas.

I ended up getting two - with taxes about $16.00. Pretty good for fresh Maine lobster, I understand. I've got to admit, I felt entirely awkward and cruel carrying live food around in a bag. The seafood man reassured me they would not escape in my fridge, but I kept checking on them all afternoon.

They looked at me with those bulgy, opaque lobster eyes. Complete disdain. My guilt was palpable, even as I googled the best cooking method. Another moment of reassurance came when I discovered that lobsters, like insects, supposedly don't have a nervous system so they can't detect pain. I guess when I slowly steam or boil their little butts to death, this should make me feel better. I don't know if this is true. Someone find out and tell me for next time.

I opted for steaming and felt bad about it until I started eating.

Lobster. Yum. I hope they can't feel pain or experience grocery bag trauma.