(Photo used by permission from Piccolo Namek)
One of the true joys of working outside the home, in a comfortable, air conditioned office, is the office kitchen. Clean and tiny, almost entirely devoid of food or useful utensils, it is a haven.
I stash my lunch in the huge empty refrigerator, so white inside it almost blinds me when I open the door to retrieve my Trader Joe’s salad or Greek yogurt. Behind the can of Yuban lurks my own personal peanut butter. Crunchy natural peanut butter is not part of my household shopping list, since no one at home but me would eat it. But here in my office kitchen I have a new little jar of it; yet unopened, it waits upside down for the day the yogurt is gone and I’m still hungry.
Today’s the day.
One of life’s tiny pleasures is opening a new jar of peanut butter and being the first one to dunk a spoon. Once the jar is half gone, however, its charms have faded as I wonder who’s been opening the lid when I’m not looking – at least that’s how it is at my home, which I share with children who are tall enough to rummage through the cupboards for snacks. But here in my office kitchen there’s no risk of anyone dipping grimy fingers into it because J— doesn’t eat processed foods and R— seems to eat only fruit and coffee. In any case, I’m sure they will expect that I double-dip with a licked spoon, and they’ll stay far away from my own personal peanut butter. And, even though I never, ever do that, today I just might.