PlatesMy life is fairly unstructured these days, once I get home. There are few things that make a daily appearance (the crossword puzzle is one of these), and I get to fritter around the house most nights, twiddling with this and making improvements in that or buried in some thing or other. Sometimes, this has an impact on how dinner gets put together. Apart from the known problems of cooking for one, if I am not careful the niceties can slip a bit. To combat this, I always try to eat off of table ware, even for take away, or such lowly things as a sandwich.
I have mentioned peanut butter sandwiches before, I know - all of that sill applies to the one I ate tonight, elderberry jam and all the rest. I could have walked around with the thing in hand; it is what they were made for, an elegant development of the multitasking meal. I could have, in fine bachelor fashion, wolfed it down over the sink or some such thing, gulping milk from the carton. Instead, the sandwich went on a plate, and the milk into a glass, cold. It elevated this simple food into a meal, gently pulling on a shabby coat of civilization there on the kitchen table. It was a welcomed thing.
The fog has not lifted all day. All day, I have been living in a cloud.
All content under copyright by the author. Dancing is permitted. The strange deltic glyphs in the sand under tidal flow are a pleasure to watch in their deepening. Offer not valid in Kansas. We put it down and then we lost it. It all happens in the corner of the eye. Commentary accepted at pen@goob.com, although the traps are agressive and the pointy bits simply drip with dark liquour. We have a dog, but we do not own it. Thank you.