It would be a shame to throw away my perfect sandwich.

It may look like an ordinary pastrami, roast beef and pepper jack with mustard on wheat, but it is also a work of art. It was made with such care and diligence that it is as perfect as a sandwich can be.

The service at the dorms, when there is service, is excellent.

Exactly three slices each of the meats and cheese are folded in perfect precision; the mustard is an immaculately thin smear, and the dab of hot sauce I brought to the table gives my sandwich frightening power.

I reiterate: it is perfect.

It̢۪s not unusual for students to criticize the dorm cafeteria for having largely inedible food, but that̢۪s because students, for some reason, ignore the reliable, old standbys: sandwich, waffle, chicken tenders and dry cereal.

Most meals you̢۪ll find three of those, if not all four, somewhere in the Residence Dining Hall.

For breakfast, I throw in made-to-order eggs and the breakfast sausage or bacon. For lunch, I sometimes even take a chance on the entrée, but that’s rare like a Boise State loss. I’ve done it once this semester.

However, for the sake of my digestion and appetite, I avoid anything but those four edibles.

The food isn̢۪t all that bad, as long as you learn to avoid what doesn̢۪t suit your palate.

Maybe I’m just a fat man who likes his fried foods — in fact, that’s exactly what I am — but there’s nothing wrong with the food I choose to eat at the dorms.

I just choose well.

I̢۪m in no position to complain, in any case. It̢۪s better than what I̢۪d cook myself.

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In other news: nation’s plutocrats to take long, hard look at someone other than everyone else; I think online colleges should have fantasy football; and college grads sick of Starbucks seek comfort in awkward former idiom.