A quick story: a couple of weeks ago I bought a bag of salada. It consisted of cut up carrots, string beans, and cauliflower. The first thing I did was take out the cauliflower and throw it away because duh, it’s cauliflower. What else can you do with it? Second thing I did was eat a bunch of the carrots and beans. The third thing I did was put it back in the refrigerator. The fourth thing I did was leave it there until today.
Now for today: when I dove into the bag again for the fresh veggies, I ate all the carrots because there were more of them. Reaching eventually into the bag for the beans, they slipped out of my fingers and left a white film on my skin. Repulsed and taking a closer look at the bag, I saw what looked like milk collected in the corner around the beans. Not that it was milk, but that’s what happens to beans when they’re not good. (Did you know that? I’ll bet not.) Or, if I’m choosing to be honest with myself, it’s what happens when a single woman has left them sitting in her fridge for two weeks in a non-air-tight plastic bag thinking they’ll be just fine like the salad dressings and ketchups are all fine. So I realize there’s something slightly off with my logic, considering what the terms “fresh” and “with added preservatives” mean.
It goes without saying I dumped the bag and its milky bean remains into the trash immediately and then tried as hard as possible to forget the fact that I’d just eaten all the carrots that had to have been touching the beans at some point, and so now I’m here thinking about your safety and trying to find a lesson in all of this, besides the obvious “um, maybe look at the food before you eat it?” I think it’s this: living alone automatically means
you I will have disgusting shit in the refrigerator and I need to give up the idea of eating fresh food and just eat stuff out of packets with expiration dates later this decade, not this week. This, I think, is why I love popcorn so much. The stuff is dry, it sits in my Ziploc container for months and nothing happens to it. It can feed me for a solid three weeks of dinners and the only things it ever gets dirty are a pot and a big white bowl. This is single living. It is the reality of single living and I don’t believe any other person who says otherwise. The fantasy of living on your own is just that: a fantasy. The real deal’s an endless supply of condiments and package of milky beans.
Living the dream in Campinas, Brazil.