the usual return

We arrive home very late last night. By the time the plane had landed and we had corralled our luggage the sun was dipping low in the sky. Add in the time it takes to manage the maze that is Frankfurt Airports parking garage which can take years to navigate and the drive home and it was barely the 3rd.

Other than one nameless member of the family who I think drifted toward the television before being stopped by the short hairs – everyone seemed to
1) complain that there was no food in the house
2) crash.

The first was sort of true. The cupboards are full of all those strange things that are left over when you are done with menus: soups that no one likes, rice, noodles (but no sauce), canned pumpkin and salsa. The fridge is packed with partially opened jars of preservatives and condiments. What I don’t get is why I came home to the same left overs that were inhabiting the shelves before I left.

It is not like 10 days is going to improve either rice or Indian food. There may be a market for 100 year old Scotch, but trust me – you don’t want 2 week old green curry chicken. Or maybe you do if multiple colors of green turn you on…..

Is it that hard to throw things out? Dead things, disgusting things, unidentifiable concoctions? Probably since that would have required first that the garbage be taken out. To empty containers means that the bio-bucket under the sink has to have space unless you can get up the strength to walk down the fall with the intention of flushing organic waste. Must fall into the too hard to do category. Since I am not a fan of smells, fruit flys or trash, the whole encounter did not leave me in the world’s best mood.

Oh, he says, I would appreciate a ride to the train station in the morning. But it is not the 0615 train, I thought the 0830 would be better.

Yes, definitely it would be better – and take the garbage with you on your way down the stairs?