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.