At work my workstation tends to look like the white-collar equivalent of downtown Grozny. Piles of papery rubble, various objet d'art produced by theNoo, stacks of course notes from IT courses undertaken, and jagged ridged magazine mesas wedged in straining holders.
I also have a scattered light flotsam under my workstation of sprung-off bull dog clips, paper clips, pens, and the occasional plastic fork.
It’s not a good look.
This messy mentality has intruded on to how I consume my food. I have a much chipped Chinese food bowl and a solid blue plastic camping fork. If I go the reheat then I like to nuke the last 30 seconds in the bowl because it’s not too hot to hold the food that way.
When I finish with the bowl I fill it with hot soapy water to soak and come back later that arvo to finish the cleaning.
Only sometimes I forget to do that.
The other day I decided, no. This is wrong. Do not leave it to soak. Do it now! Clean it now! So I did and, so proud was I, I then emailed the rest of the team to brag that I now met basic hygienic kitchenette practices.
Then … I forgot again. This time it was a cheesy Mediterranean spirals dish – a re-heat from the previous day as I’d purchased the large size, ate half, and kept the rest for the next day.
The next day being a Friday.
So Friday lunchtime I ate my Mediterranean spirals remnants, filled up the bowl with hot soapy water, and planned to finish cleaning before I went home.
For the weekend.
Come Monday it was still there. When the outraged L pointed at the travesty that was my cheesy left out for 48 hours dirty bowl I could smell the rot from three metres away.
Epic fail – and after I’d expressly announced my future ambition to always wash my bowl afterwards there and then.
Today I had a cabonara from the café. When I’d purchased the spirals the previous week they’d kindly augmented it with some shredded cheese from the ingredient tubs at the sandwich bar. I wanted to do this again with this fresh pasta experience – only there was no shredded cheese.
However they did have cheese slices.
So I left the café with my cab, over the top of which, and locked in a kissing embrace with the lid above, was a slice of slowly melting cheese.
I showed everyone at work what a golden god I was for my successful cheese draping.
Cheese; is there anything it can’t improve?
PS I wrote the above about two hours ago. Now my guts hurt. Bastard cheese! Oh ... I can't stay mad at you, come here...