Now, since I'm not home every minute of every day I don't know every detail of everything that goes on. But my fridge is a microcosm of daily life that tells strange half-stories: yogurt with the spoon left in, open cups with a swallow left at the bottom, dinner plates with unidentifiable contents, condiments that travel from shelf to shelf, leftovers in oversized containers.
These things mystify me almost as much as the motivations behind them. I'm not a particularly organized person -- except for the refrigerator. I like to see my food and know where and how much of it there is. I like for my food to stay in the kitchen. I like to put something down and know that it'll be there when I return for it (this never happens).
I've taken to buying food that nobody likes: strong flavors, stinky food. Olives and ginger and hot sauce; pickles and okra and smelly cheese; mushrooms and spinach and asparagus; sushi and kimchi and wasabi; garlic and onions and mole sauce and exotic fruit.
The Nodlings are catching up, however -- they are starting to like my stuff. Already the olives, pickles, okra, cheese, mushrooms, spinach, and even the mole sauce are "gone" by one or another of the cohort.
Pretty soon all that will be left is an empty plate with a crust on it. Oops, too late.
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