I have this mostly-hate relationship with oranges. I dislike peeling them, because I hate getting orange skin under my fingernails. And I don’t like the pulpy white stuff that sticks to the orange after it’s been peeled, so I end up sort of peeling it again to get rid of that, and by then there’s no point in having bothered in the first place. Or, of course, you can cut the orange into quarters and slorch the juice and some of the meat out of it, which ends up with getting orange stickiness all over your face and shiny orange skin scales on your fingers and pulp stuck between your teeth. This is clearly not ideal either. Also, though while you’re supposed to be able to tell by type, I don’t know enough about oranges to know what’s a sweet one and what’s a sour one, which makes buying them a crap shoot anyway because I don’t want to eat sour oranges. Blick.
Consequently, pretty much the only time of year I eat oranges is at Christmas, when Mandarin oranges, which are easy to peel, sweet, not too white-stuffy, and are conveniently seedless are available. (Satsumas and Clementines fall under more or less the same headings, but I find it hard to convince myself that they’re The Right Oranges, probably because it was Mandarins we got in Alaska when I was growing up.)
Anyway, I bought a Navel orange the other day (like, two weeks ago) because I was determined to try to eat some oranges, and I had it for breakfast this morning (only because I was tired of oatmeal, and told myself quite fiercely that I should eat the damned orange so it didn’t *rot*, which goes to show my general attitude toward them), and, y’know, now I feel attacked by an orange, and I’m just wondering if there’s actually a *good* way to eat those pieces of fruit.
Also, I’m still hungry. One orange is not enough like breakfast.
I wonder if I’m going to get any work done today.