Fewd

My refrigerator is the final resting place for nutrients meant to end up as part of someone's body. I go to the store with no clear plan, wander up and down the aisles, choose items in a random way, pay, go home, carry into the house only those purchases likely to go bad if not refrigerated, stuff all that into the fridge, and forget it. Then a few days later I may remember something in the fridge long enough to fix and eat it, but not usually. Usually what happens to things in my fridge is that they decay. When I open the door and the smell knocks me over, I realize that it's time to get a garbage bag and evict some compost. Once in a long time, if I have company coming over, I may open the fridge and squirt a little Windex around, push a paper towel through dried-on juice, meat goop, crumbs, rotten vegetation, etc.

So this sounds as though I don't eat, which would mean that I'm thin, which would not be factual. I eat food that pours out of cans or that goes into the microwave in the package it wore upon arrival. I buy lots and lots of fruit and vegetables and then I let it all rot. Why? I don't know. Maybe I'm crazy?

What about the things I paid for but didn't even carry into the house? Well, they stay in the trunk of my car until I desperately need them. It's a safe bet that at any time you open the trunk of my car, you will be able to see paper towels, toilet paper, canned soup and spaghetti, every known variety of diet soda, light bulbs, printer paper, dried noodles, dill pickle flavored chips, tuna, dog food, etc, etc. Why? I don't know. Crazy. Crazy.

Why would I even tell on myself in a blog like this? Good question and here are three answers. One: should you be in need of any of the items you now understand to be pretty much permanently available in the trunk of my car, flag me down and help yourself. I may be crazy, but I'm generous. Two: suppose I were on my way from point A to point B when for some reason my car refused to continue, leaving me stranded away from home. If you happen to be a friend of mine living at point B and expecting me to arrive, say, at 10:00 A.M., when I failed to arrive by 5:00 P.M. you might begin to worry about me except that you'd say to yourself, "This isn't serious. She could survive for a month on the supplies in the trunk of her car." Three: in case you ever need just about enough compost to fill a largish planter, you can always get what you need by bravely opening my refrigerator and removing fruit and vegetables that never made it onto the menu.