Aside from the day I brought the refrigerator home sparkling and new, I have never seen my cheese drawer empty. It would be too sad for words. There's always a nub of something interesting in there, something I can melt into bread or crumble in my salad, something snappy to eat with apple slices or spreadable for the crackers. I'm happiest when there are choices and there always seem to be. You see, I don't really shop for cheese. Other than the cheddar I always have on hand for emergency nachos — they are a thing, trust me —, I'm not sure where it comes from. Occasionally I'm certain it leapfrogs into the cart while I am searching for healthful things like green beans and whole grain rice. My point is, there are things I never worry about, like the dependable tide of cheese, that make the things I do worry about seem more manageable.
Remembering the names of things
Truly a disorder (lethologica), I am constantly turning my head to the side, eyes rolling up toward the edge of my brain like I left the answer hanging off my forehead, trying to recall an author or a movie or something with a stupid proper name.
Maintaining a tenuous balance between good hydration and an overful tank
See, as a regular urinary tract infection sufferer, I tend to panic when the bathroom breaks grow into 15-minute intervals. It's mostly my own fault, however, because I continue to hydrate in order to keep from snacking on those cookies. I also drink liquids to control my body temperature. Cold in here? I'm having tea. Hot? Iced coffee. And this is aside from my usual 3 liters of water/day. Image how it feels when I go on vacation. My skin dries out immediately and I become a camel. I keep thinking how this will only get worse as I age, and I'm mostly referring to my paranoia about the entire ordeal.
Affording the running gear that keeps things from falling apart fast enough to let it continue helping
Oh was that confusing? I see. If you run, let's say 3 times/week, you'll need shoes ($100), a sports bra ($35) and some clothes you can move in ($40 at Walmart). When you move this sucker indoors with your new treadmill ($875) and increase to daily runs, you'll need a second pair of shoes ($100) to rotate in so you don't have blisters. You might want a set of underwear that doesn't ride up ($20), trust me, and a second sports bra too ($35). Eventually, you'll understand the need for those expensive wicking socks and break open a pack of those ($10 each). By now either your ankles or your knees are hurting, so you'll want a yoga mat ($40) for stretching those out, possibly a book ($20) to follow along if you're not taking a class ($15/class). Now you're probably up to the part where you need to replace the original pair of running shoes ($100) and, possibly, your sports bra ($35). Are your clothes still decent? Probably not. When summer rolls back around, you might pick up one of those fancy distance calculating watches ($100) or a small iPod ($80). And when you start running trails, you'll need shoes with traction ($100). Get it? Running is easy, not cheap.
The perfect homemade bagel
I've tried three recipes, all decent, and found the resulting bagels too chewy. If you know anything about the tedium involved in making bagels by hand, you'll know that even 'decent' is incredibly disappointing after six hours of work.
{End part three of a long, working list. Nope, it's not over yet.}
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