You can always tell when something is bothering me by looking in my refrigerator. When my emotions are in turmoil, the shelves of my refrigerator are equally as upset. I just opened my Frigidaire, and it is a mess. I can't find anything in there. On the top shelf, there should be a carton of 18 eggs in the left corner. Heavy cream, half and half, a pound of butter and a quart of yogurt should line up accordingly from left to right. Tonight I see, on the top shelf, two cartons of eggs, a bowl of black beans, olives, a can of Pillsbury croissants, half a container of canned tomatoes, and the shiny silver cup that is used on the milkshake maker, half full of whipped cream. There is even stuff behind all that, but it is scary and I am very afraid.
In the cheese drawer, things have been shoved and it is hard to open, a lot like my brain. There is a head of lettuce, and one of cauliflower on the second shelf. Clearly, these belong at the bottom of the refrigerator, in the produce drawers. There is some ground turkey, which belongs on the third shelf, with the spare ribs, and tortilla wraps. A bottle of salad dressing is on this shelf, too. Odd - I don't remember opening it. I can't find the peanut butter. There is no dark chocolate. There are too many containers of leftovers.
During difficult times, when I am under duress, my shelves fill with small random dishes of leftovers. There are whole meals prepared and then abandoned - eggs on the wrong shelf and condiments askew. Multiple heads of cauliflower sprout from parts unknown. There is far too much broccoli. When I am under stress, I buy broccoli, and because I am preoccupied I have no memory of buying broccoli, so the next morning I buy more broccoli.
Broccoli is healthy. I am a good mother if I serve my family broccoli. I will loose weight if I eat more broccoli. My husband won't get colon cancer and it won't matter that we don't have health insurance and he will always be here to take care of me if I feed him more broccoli.
In my fridge right now, there are several bunches of broccoli. One is for the first week of classes, and the first assignment I have already screwed up. The professor sent it back to me, with a message to re-read the assignment and resubmit. One is because the mother figures in my life have recently decided to die, and the ones who didn't successfully die within the past two months have gone into nursing homes or shown signs of dementia. One is because no matter how nice we are to my daughter, she is sullen and cranky and turns on us. It is the broccoli of adolescence. One is because my son cries himself to sleep at night when he remembers that he has to go to school the next day. His teacher is less than nice. I also hold her responsible for the two extra heads of cauliflower, a second bag of carrots, and the nearly empty bottle of Absolute in the freezer. Sometimes, I think Dad had it right.
I have to stop this. I will stop this - tomorrow or Wednesday when I have the energy.
Here is to the coming week, when I will have the energy to clean the refrigerator, find the control that is missing in my life, and in creating order, let go of the gloomy sadness that holds me. I will toss it out with the vegetable soup that my husband did not especially enjoy, and the sliced turkey that was not enough to make a full sandwich of, but too much to eat without mayo. When the shelves are tidy and the condiments back on the door, I will bake my minister a flourless chocolate cake. She announced this week that she is leaving our congregation. I am happy for her as she starts a new chapter in her life, but I think she is the reason I have so much celery.
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