“Remoted” – Day 381 (Thursday)

The Misfits Market box was scheduled for Wednesday, and expecting the produce delivery, there were rare plans for items in the box. Usually I just wing it. These included stuffed peppers using the incoming mixed bell peppers and the leftover rice in the fridge, and a sliced beefsteak tomato and cheese sandwich for lunch on Thursday. Late in the day, I saw the email that the box was delayed until Thursday.

Today, around noon, but after I’d already eaten left over beans and rice for lunch, the box arrived. Wednesday’s enthusiasm for cooking had waned, and the mood had shifted to wanting a pizza delivered for supper. The box looked a little banged up, and I held my breath a bit as I opened it. Despite the ice pack being on top of the corn chips, miraculously, they weren’t completely crushed.

Smashed.

The promising start didn’t finish as well. One of the beefsteak tomatoes was smashed, curtailing the opportunity for slicing. There is a second one, so it isn’t totally off the table. Both peppers were smashed, killing the stuffed peppers plan. The box of broth was crushed and leaking from the bottom seam. 

Despite not feeling like cooking supper, the smashed pepper and the smashed tomato were cut into chunks for a stir fry, along with a bunch of other veggies and the last of the shrimp from the freezer. As a finish, I decided to add the leftover sauce from ravioli the other night.

After spooning some of the sauce into the pan, the container with the remainder was set on the counter. Except it wasn’t set fully on the counter, and fell onto the floor. Maybe I wasn't paying attention. Maybe I'm just a klutz. What is impressive is the coverage provided by approximately a cup of spaghetti sauce.

Stir fry veggies and shrimp.

The dogs appeared immediately to lick the puddle of sauce from the landing zone. An abstract arc of sauce was painted across the front of the oven door and the drawer below, reminiscent of a murder scene. When it finally seemed the mess was all cleaned up, Winston started licking a cookbook on the bottom shelf of the rack about six feet away from the scene of the mishap. There was sauce on the cookbook and the seat of the desk chair. It was in the dog bed near the desk. There was a big splatter of it on the bottom of my pant leg and the top of my shoe. It reached the point where it wasn’t clear if the mess was being mopped up or just spread around. 

The supper I wasn’t even in the mood to cook had turned into a punishment with the additional cleaning project. At least supper tasted good, even if the smashed veggies and major cleanup left a sour taste in my mouth. As for Misfits .... it might be time for us to break up. There have been far too many boxes of smashed produce that leave me frustrated and annoyed.