my plate is an evolving art gallery

I woke up today craving toast. Because, of course, that’s what normal people do at 7 AM. I stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and in those ridiculous plaid pajamas that should’ve been donated years ago. There it was, staring back at me from the counter: yesterday’s avocado. (Why do avocados always look like they’re judging your life choices?) Anyway, I slapped it on some sourdough and called it breakfast. There’s something deeply satisfying about random meals like these. Probably the chaos.

[INSERT_IMAGE_1]

Lunchtime was a hot mess, literally. I decided to improvise with noodles and the leftover spaghetti sauce (that definitely should have been thrown out three days ago). The fridge was basically a time capsule at this point. But hey, the noodles turned a bright orange from the hunks of carrot I tossed in for good measure. I dumped it all in a bowl, added way too much parmesan, and questioned my choices. Again.

Fast forward to dinner—by which I mean, I finally put some effort in. I’m talking about actual cooking here. Chopped up some fresh basil for the homemade pasta, and tossed a salad that had the perfect balance of greens and nuts. Ok, so maybe the salad was mostly nuts, but whatever. It didn’t matter because the red wine made its grand entrance at the table, balancing the whole ordeal.

[INSERT_IMAGE_2]

Honestly, I think eating like this is a bit of a performance art piece. My meals are a revolving door of bizarre inspiration and forgotten leftovers. Who needs gourmet cooks when you can romance the chaos of your fridge? But, seriously, my stomach might argue otherwise. I could use some Tums right now. Or maybe a nap. More realistically, both.