The Bachelor Pad

The refrigerator has clearly been abandoned some time ago. There can be no other rational explanation for the paucity of its contents. I survey the shelves and all I can locate worthy of human consideration are 2 jars of peanut butter, 4 cups of yogurt, 3 slices of cheese, a tub of a butter substitute and various beverages that I no longer drink (diet coke) or never did (beer and gin). Welcome to my bachelor pad.

Earlier this week, as my wife reviewed my work schedule, dotted with escapes to the golf course and court appearances, it was evident that my time in the office would be minimal. So, she reasoned, quite correctly, that with a few days of perfect weather forecast and the limited need for her to assist me, she was getting out of Dodge. On a spur of the moment decision, she and my son packed their bags and left me to my own devices, for 5 days. That is not a good thing.

There are no dirty dishes in the sink. Last night's dinner was a bagel with lox cream cheese spread, picked up at the store on the ground floor of my mom's apartment building. The bagel had been wrapped and put in a brown paper bag. The bag now sat on the kitchen table, while the wrapping served as a plate. I was just too lazy to do anything else.

It cannot be deemed the height of self sufficiency when I praise myself for taking the old newspapers out to the trash bin down the corridor, or when I water the plants on the terrace. And I think I may have even failed in one of those tasks. It appeared that the plants almost recoiled as the torrents came flowing out. If they were not drowning, they were certainly desperately looking for a life vest or other device to keep them afloat. The excess water spilled over the sides of the plant, and droplets, like a tiny rain storm, fell 8 floors to the earth. I wondered if anyone was walking underneath.

I was married at the conclusion of my last year in law school. The years after college, and before marriage, were spent in the comfort of my boyhood bedroom. I was coddled and protected, and without a break in the cycle, my ever suffering wife took over the task of being not only companion but caretaker. I just never grew up.

It is now Friday and I only have to survive until Sunday. By that time, there will be many trips to the refrigerator to take out the peanut butter and lather it on some crackers (if any can be located in the cabinets). The 3 slices of cheese will get eaten in one enormous gulp, as my incapacity in the kitchen is rivaled only by my startling habit of failing to "take human bites".  The yogurt will probably survive, as it is deemed too healthy an option. I will drink water and wait for the cavalry to arrive.

But, if for some reason, there is a delay in the return of my family (like trying to avoid me for as long as possible) I could be in serious jeopardy. I think I have enough provisions to last a week, 2 at the most. After that, I may be forced to do something else that has long been deemed too tough a task for me to master. Food shopping. Stay tuned.