I have two apple pies in my freezer. Small ones. You know the size – just perfect for two people. Except I’m only one person. “They’ll be just right for company,” I told myself when I bought them. I even picked up some vanilla ice cream to go with them when I did the grocery shopping later that week.
Problem is, I haven’t had any company for dinner. I’m enjoying a self-imposed dating hiatus. The one – or possibly two – guys that I’d gladly invite for dinner seem to be taking hiatuses of their own. From me.
Every time I open the freezer, the pies just sit there, mocking me. They are a daily reminder that I’m having a dry spell. Yesterday, I swore at them. Aloud. Then slammed the freezer door. Not one of my best moments.
If I had any self control at all, I’d bake one of those pies and enjoy it myself. Show them who’s boss around here. But it would quickly become a single serving. Single – like me. They taunt me still. They’d leave me full. Not only of pie but with self loathing and regret. Not unlike the dates they imply I should be having.
Finally, I moved the pies to the rear of the freezer. Behind the ice cube trays and frozen Weight Watcher entrees. Now I smile smugly when I open the freezer, knowing they can’t see me. But I know they’re in there, lurking. The snarky little darlings. They’re waiting for a weak moment, some sleepless, late night when my stomach is growling and I need comfort. I fantasize about shoving them down the garbage disposal. Is this what I’ve come to?
I think I’ll donate them to a shelter or soup kitchen. Tomorrow. Maybe….