So it was pouring rain, I was running to my car at the end of my last vball practice, and I had a bunch of keys and bags and things in both hands. I threw my stuff into my trunk, slammed it shut, and went to my door to open it…oh…oh wait….I meant to throw the crumpled up Capri Sun in my trunk….but I had thrown in my keys instead.

le sigh.

I sprint to the front parking lot, praise Jesus that one of my team moms is still there, hustling her kids into her suburban. I talked her into driving me home, a full thirty minutes out of her way round trip….almost there, I realize I have no way of getting into my house without my keys. As three girls living alone, we have done a really good job of keeping things locked tight. There will be no break in.

I call both roomies, no one is there.


Team mom takes me to my mom’s house, where, PTL, my sisters are home and I can get in.

I arrive soaking wet, frustrated at all the work I will now not be able to accomplish, and then decide to shake it off and enjoy the central heating at my parents’. I’ve lived away from home (not counting random moments of time where I needed to move back in for a while) for about nine years. My mom has lived in many places since the house I would call “home,” (49 Mazie Court it will always be…even though I haven’t really lived there since I was 13) but no matter how long I’ve been away, or how much that house Mom lives in I wouldn’t really call “home,” one thing does not change upon entering the building…I go immediately to the fridge. I don’t even have to be anywhere near hungry, something about being within the same place where my mom might have cooked something within the last few days makes me want to scavenge for leftovers. Has she made her meatloaf or spaghetti or stroganof lately?! I must have it!!!

My parents were out at some dinner thing, and so I beelined to the fridgey. They have one that is all sleek silver on the outside, and has TWO doors that open to reveal all the goodness inside. It even beeps at you if you keep it open too long, which I usually do. Because I must check out everything inside. The white wine! The vegetables! The fruit! The fresh bread! The artichoke jalapeno dip from the deli! I decide I deserve a glass of Sav blanc, and then I go to investigate the cupboards….the cheez-its! Triscuits! Fancy pretzels! Packaged rice krispie treats?!! Look at all the fancy things!

As a busy, single, pretty broke kind of person, I don’t even buy myself produce or a loaf of bread. I’m certain I won’t eat it before it goes bad. I congratulate myself on finishing a gallon of milk within a week after the expiration date. I’ve been madly baking things for my vball team because I bought a dozen of eggs on a whim, and haven’t eaten a single one because I’m honestly not quite sure of what to do with them, if not put them with brownie mix.

I am now back at my home…where my fridge contents consist of….Brita water filter container…salad dressing…..cheese…Coffeemate…beer….diet 7up. Wow. Only one of those really qualifies as a food.

Well. I do have pita chips. That’s something.