This morning I had a disturbing dream. I don’t usually remember my dreams, but this one was so disturbing, I thought it had really happened and only realized it was a dream when I was at the breakfast table in the middle of my third or fourth swallow of tea. In my dream I had…give me a minute, this is hard for me…I had (swallow)…I had run out of gas. In the dream I had just left my daughter’s house and was driving to who-knows-where, when I felt the car slowing down. I depressed the gas petal to the floor, and nada pasa. I pulled the car over to the side of the road and coasted to a stop. I was about to call AAA when my husband and son-in-law happened to be driving by, saw my car, and pulled over. My husband started to laugh when I told him what happened, but then he looked at my face and knew that was the wrong response.
“Totally my fault,” he said. “I know you kept reminding me to fill your car up, and I forgot.” At least he recognized his responsibility in this terrible event. He likes my cooking and he knows what side his bread is buttered on. Even in my dream.
Okay, stop shaking your heads, those of you who do not understand why this was such a disturbing dream. Maybe you are one of those people who wait until his warning light comes on before you fill up your tank. I, on the other hand, am one of those people who start to panic once the needle falls below the half-way mark.
I am like my mother in that regard. I do not want to run out of anything. When my mother died, my father found she had squirreled away about twenty rolls of plastic kitchen wrap. He didn’t have to buy any for several years. Nor did he have to buy paper towels, toilet paper, soap, and various other necessities. If you come to my house and you forgot your toothbrush, no worries. I’m sure to have one or two–or ten–extras. Same goes for toothpaste, deodorant, dental floss, soap, olive oil, and many other items, including plastic kitchen wrap. I am my mother’s daughter, after all.
One thing I do not stock up on, however, is food in the refrigerator. Open the refrigerator door these days, and there is not much there. I prefer to walk up to the market and buy whatever feels right for the day. Better yet, when my husband asks, “What’s for dinner?” I prefer to say, “Oh, look at that! The cupboard is bare. Guess we’ll have to go out and eat.” See, I can be practical sometimes.