The door is heavy, somehow sticky (although who will admit to causing that), and oddly precarious with a zillion small items teetering behind plastic bars that have been historically unreliable. It can be the door to a paradise of possibilities, like opening a garden gate and being pleasantly assaulted with the spectrum of colors and flavors and a seemingly unlimited range of pleasurable options.
In those tightly-squeezed, harried, overwhelmed moments, though, the ones that have lately become somewhat more regular, that door is simply turning the page on the “to-do” list. A drawer to clean. Ingredients purchased for recipes postponed that are now decaying. Incredible the amount of shame I feel having to throw away food! The endless quest to eat healthier sometimes, sadly, meanders through valleys of “my hummus gone rancid” and “a small collection of Dr. Peppers on the bottom shelf,” which he will enjoy. Leftovers for days, simply because I am not allowing myself a few moments of creative abandon in the kitchen. I think that is just a temporary sacrifice, while I drive this course to completion.
I feel better, though, after the surprising discovery of last week’s (or the week before) best-ever-chicken-soup. It truly was for the soul, with a healing and tantalizing blend of chicken broth with a barrage of veggies, lentils and wild rice. Heated on the stove, paired with a grilled cheese and tomato sammie, enjoyed beside the computer with the door cracked open (the house door, not the fridge) to see an odd, bright slice of the day…I am sure I will tackle the fridge another day.