There’s evidently a part of me that’s convinced I’m the sort of person who plans dinners/cooking far enough in advance to use dried beans.
It may be the same part of me that’s apparently sure we always need another can of chickpeas. Or that keeps collecting condensed milk that I never, ever use. (Buying that is usually an actual mistake, rather than some kind of strange conviction, to be fair. Periodically I get condensed and evaporated milks confused in my head.) It’s probably also the same part of me that buys hairdressing things that I’m physically incapable of mastering.
Today I’m tossing everything that’s past it’s use-by date, or has been sitting around long enough to suggest that no, we’re not ever actually going to eat that thing. I’ve done two cupboards and have one left. Or two, I always forget about the free-standing one. But it’s mostly full of homemade jam and chocolate chips.
I’ve made up the remaining dozen boxes and, somewhat tidily, also run out of packing tape to put them together with. I have the somewhat grim ambition to try packing the rest of the office books tonight, although I don’t realistically expect to get that done. And due to Unexpected Sick Child (he’s fine now) I didn’t get the clothes culled that I’d planned to today, so I’m feeling especially unaccomplished.
I have, though, made a German chocolate cake for Father’s Day, which, yes, isn’t until Sunday, but I’m not making a nine pound cake 36 hours before we have to move. With any kind of luck all the things to make a cake with will be in boxes by that time. With any kind of luck EVERYTHING will be in boxes by then except perhaps cookie sheet upon which to cook fish and chips for three days and some bedding and pillows to sleep on.