My pandemic co-worker is on vacation this week*, so I’m on my own for lunch. My Sweetie, perhaps sensing this void?, came by to think out loud through the leftovers in the fridge… since my Before-Times drill was to use leftovers for lunch, it’s good to plant the dinner flags early.
*
Annd now pretty much everything but the spare pizza is allocated to dinner. Goodgoodgood and also I don’t want a salad today. Even with newly-made spicy chickpea snax on top.
Staring into the fridge in the door-open way that makes fathers weep,
I tried to figure out what — or pizza? — I wanted for lunch.
I absently focused on a bowl of fruit salad uneaten at breakfast.
I thought: yogurt. We have plain yogurt.
I said — out loud in the empty kitchen — “Well, that’s easier than thinking!” and proceeded to pull them out. Channeling my high school years, I grabbed a small packet of pretzels, for texture.
*
Easier than thinking: my motto for keeping myself fed.
2/10. Would not recommend.
Though yogurt with fresh blueberries and peaches is very much a lovely thing!
*”This week” as in: when I wrote this. Ha ha, not even this blog will help you anchor yourself in time.
“Co-worker”: B and I have been sharing an office since Easter. I like it — like cats, we hug when the mood strikes us, plus she speaks more complex English than cats tend to.