Whenever I’m in the kitchen and am absent minded, I automatically go through the motions of making rice.  Please don’t ask why: I can give no better answer than ‘it’s one of my personal charms’, though probably not one of the ones Ruben married me for.  It is probably rooted in a deep subconscious appreciation of the utterly ridiculous.  At some point I suddenly awake to a present reality of adding water to a panful of rice, having already reached the point of no return in the cooking process.  The only possible course open to me is to make mental self recriminations whilst securing a tupperware, and to design an elaborate meal plan in which I eat cold rice out of a tupperware for a few days.

Lately I’ve been absent minded a lot in the kitchen.  I have a couple tupperwares of rice in the fridge.  And a pan of rice boiling on the stove.

If any of you local ladies could use some rice, let me know.