DECOMPOSURE

One of the things I've learned over the years is that women throw away things for "reasons". Meaning that where most men will wail, in anguish, that "it's still good", a woman will toss the "useful" old object out and be done with it. When a man discards something, it's because it was time to do so. And on that note, I have finally garbaged the second of two Asian pears that I bought at the end of December. It had turned. At first I was hoping that my apartment mate would eat it -- she has a great fondness for Asian pears -- but by mid-February I was marveling at how long it had stayed looking fresh. By mid-March I was wondering "should we eat it before it finally goes bad? Will we actually eat it in time?" and by then yesterday morning I realized it was, finally, beyond that point.

It had a good run. Now I wonder if I should buy another one.

I'm actually not that fond of fruit.

But these are extraordinairy pears.

I'm actually surprised that my apartment mate didn't throw it out a while back. Perhaps if I left it where it was she would not have noticed that it was brown and soft. Sometimes she can't see the food schmutz left on vessels and utensils when she washes them, and I'll end up cleaning them again in the middle of the night or during the day, when she is out and I am in, without saying anything. As I hope she does when I accidentally overlook something (even though that is far less likely).

Both of us are neurotic, but I'm the anal-retentive one.

I often end up washing her favourite hot beverage cups to make sure there are no tough encrustations of dried milk anywhere. She's pre-occupied with leaving for work in the morning, and one must tend to this early lest the casein become cement-like.
Anyone familiar with painting and glue will know what I mean.


It's remarkable how much dairy goes into her cup of hot chocolate.
My coffee and milk tea doesn't even come close.



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