I stand on my tiptoes, in open-back slippers, peering into my pantry. I'm standing on the freshly- cleaned counter top, but I don't really care. Right now, my throat feels like it has pins and needles stuck into it, and I am in dire need of a substitute for mother's TLC. There is a debate going on in my head about which soup my stomach desires, is it Minestrone or Rich and Hearty Chicken Pot Pie? Minestrone has a week's worth (ok that's an exaggeration) of veggies and Chicken Pot Pie has...well...chicken. I would want orange juice with Minestrone, and potato bread with CPP, quick calculations lead me to think 'well oj might not be the best idea right now' and 'cpp has diced potatoes in it'. Which one do I choose?
The answer is obvious.
Of course then my mind starts thinking in tangents and it makes me sad how much our lives depend on plasticity and perfectly shaped food products in neat packages with pretty handwriting. The most basic of necessities has been taking over by patriarchal corporate organizations. At the same time I'm thinking 'well if I just let my foot casually slip, I'll fall onto the ground, land on my head, maybe my skull will crack open, and no one will notice cuz my cell phone's upstairs and my roommates aren't home'
Instead I angrily load the dishwasher, stare at the orange going bad and look around to see why I never get flowers sent to me anymore.