Now, the funny thing to me, as an impartial observer, on the other side of the Atlantic, is that nobody is truly in charge. This is slightly shocking because a) it’s The Mom’s house and when I lived there she was in charge, and because b) Crazy D and L’il Sis are the sorts of folk who like to be in charge of things.
That and they’ve gone on some kind of freakish organisational bender of late, what with the cupboards and all, one would have thought that sort of thing would be extended to the fridge as well, especially since the fridge is always the worst offender.
When I lived with The Mom, I was only allowed to go to the supermarket when she needed something very specific and I was already going to be out. But, since I was desperately unemployed, I suppose I didn’t have access to the kind of funding needed to really stock up on eggs and kale, or whatever life’s essentials are at home these days. If I was sent anywhere near a grocery store, I was given precisely enough money to buy the thing The Mom needed and no more. She knows I have a wandering eye.
Now and again I’d be given an extra fiver – mad money if you will – and let loose. I’d linger over fish heads and mangosteens, deciding which treats I wanted to watch the dog eat more, which would provide the greatest amount of entertainment. I suppose the folk at home now buy food to eat, with nary a consideration to its potential for comedy and or an hour’s entertainment. Employment will do that to a person. Things just aren’t the same at all.
But hearing tell of the latest episode in Two Against One is really indicative of how things have changed. When we were teenagers, The Mom would constantly assert that whatever it was she wanted to feed us was totally fine, well within its use by date and when we checked and found her to be lying through her teeth, she would then pleased that of course it would be fine and demand to know who had turned us into a bunch of people who blindly follow the rules. There was, if I recall correctly, some muttering under her breath about how we could’ve decided to do that ages ago, back before she’d given up on rules at all.
I suppose I was the worst at it, having a good and right fear of food and natural suspicion about the authorities that did not at all extend to best by dates. Though I loathed and thought the worst of most authorities (teachers, principals, governments) they didn’t appear to have much of an impact on my day to day life. If, however, I ate a food stuff that had gone off, I envisioned weeks languishing in a hospital, being poked and prodded, and I wanted none of it. I adhered rigidly to best by dates. If there was a whiff of anything unseemly about the food, I would not eat it.
I’ve lightened up now that I buy my own food and, as The Mom is wont to do, forget what I’ve bought. This amounts to me finding things in the back of my fridge, when I’m desperate for dinner and haven’t remembered to buy anything to cook, and it’s not quite pay day yet, and thinking to myself, Well, if The Mom were here, she’d say it was fine… If something goes wrong, I’ll blame her then. It won’t be pretty, but it won’t be my fault.
Which brings me to the realisation that actually, now The Mom has someone to blame – two someone’s if she plays her cards right and Crazy D’s in town – for overloading her fridge and forgetting what they’ve bought. No longer can she be solely at fault for the state of her fridge. Reason enough to let L’il Sis and Crazy D stay for the duration if you ask me.