I had a 100% vegan Sunday—

But my Monday has gotten off to a less-than-auspicious start. And it's not even 1:00 a.m.

See, tonight I found myself needing to have dinner at midnight, and there's only one place I know where that can happen in a way that's at all appealing: the Mexicali Rose. Nothing there's vegan or even remotely not-factory-farmed, but I figured a cheese enchilada would be better than going to bed hungry.

So I get there, settle in with my magazine and my big basket of the best chips on earth, and place my order: one red enchilada with cheese, along with the usual insane mound o' rice and beans. When it comes, it's all good and cheesy on top. Like a cheese enchilada should be. Except when I dig in I find that it's not cheese inside, it's ground beef.

Of course, I could send it back. I ordered cheese. Getting the totally wrong food is pretty much the only reason I would ever think it's acceptable to send something back. And I have actually sent things back before (okay, one time) when they had meat in them and weren't supposed to. But I don't. And, moment of truth: It was only a teeny-weeny bit because I didn't want to be a pain in my waiter's ass. Part of me was pretty psyched. Even though I thought the ribs would last me a good six months, I was happy to be eating the beef—especially since I didn't have to have any ethical conversation with myself before ordering it. Because I didn't order it.