A Very Short Quiz

Q: What, if anything, is significant about the following photo, Gentle Reader?

A: Not a danged thing if you live a normal life. Well, other than the miniscule size of my sink, which makes a normal, one-meal-size drainer full of dishes look positively humongous. Nope…nothing to see here…but don’t move along just yet.

The pic is significant because it’s proof that I actually cooked dinner this evening (spaghetti, in case you’re wondering) as opposed to nuking it in the manner of the typical 21^st Century single-person household. First time in literally months for me. And for what it’s worth, “cooking” means getting pots and pans dirty. I still have to do dishes even after nuking dinner, just not as many of them.

I did something else unusual this evening. I threw the leftovers out. Immediately. My usual practice is to put my leftovers in some sort of container, carefully seal it, place the container in the fridge, wait a week or two (or until I think “what's that smell?” when I open the fridge), and then throw it out. There's a very, very small possibility the leftovers might get eaten... it has happened. But not usually. Hell, not ever. In my case the whole “save the leftovers” thing is a ritual designed to ward off guilt about starving kids in India, beaten into my head all those years ago (Thanks, Mom!). It also serves to clutter up my small refrigerator and take up space which can be used for other, essential stuff. Like beer. And Dr. Pepper.

So. Given that I've been both naughty and nice to myself…it's time for a reward, methinks. And here it is:

Two fingers of the emergency single-malt (Glenlivet). You know there might be more to follow…