Good morning everyone. I hope you are doing well on this Thursday morning. I’m not bad. Could use a bit more sleep but that is about par for the course at this point. So shall we jump into our morning prompt? Timer set and off we go.
I don’t know why the thought of people who proclaim very specific dietary preferences having no idea how to actually cook for themselves amuses me, but it sort of does.
Thursday, October 9th: What is this made of?
“What is this made of?” he asked. He poked the contents of the bowl with a finger. “You know I am very particular about what I put into my body.”
“I know,” Eloise said as she moved to one of the drawers and pulled out one of the beeswax reusable covers. “And please stop poking it.”
He withdrew his finger and looked at it, there was only a small streak of matter attached to it. He stepped back and she walked over. She looked at the bowl. His finger left a small hole. The sight of it annoyed her. She had already cleaned up the counter, but set the cover down, turned the bowl over her free hand and took the sticky mass out of the bowl. She took a moment to reshape the mass, removing the finger hole and then put it back on the bowl. She then covered the bowl and set it to the side.
She moved to the sink to wash her hands. Travis, she noted had simply wiped his off on the dish towel hanging over the handle of the stove door.
‘Have to wash that,’ she thought. While the dough would dry and leave a dry flaky patch, the ball was covered with olive oil. She added soap to her hands and lathered up. She rinsed and was aware that Travis was watching her.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well what?” she replied reaching for the towel. As expected there was an oily spot and a bit of drying dough on the cloth. She avoided the spot while drying her hands and then walked over towards the door leading from the kitchen into the laundry room.
“Does it go along with my requirements?” he asked.
Eloise fought not to roll her eyes. “It isn’t for you at all so you needn’t worry,” she replied. She opened the door to the laundry room and stepped inside. She opened the washer, dropped the towel in and closed the lid. Later she would be doing laundry and she could easily wash the towel with it. She stepped back out of the laundry room, closed the door and reached for one of the kitchen drawers. This one was full of clean kitchen towels. She took out the top one and closed the drawer.
Travis was staring at her, his mouth pinched as she moved.
“What?” she asked as she walked over to the oven. She hung the fresh towel on the handle and looked at Travis.
“What do you mean it isn’t for me?”
“I mean that once it has finished baking it is cooling, being wrapped up and leaving the house,” Eloise said. “Therefore, it won’t be here for you to worry about.”
She didn’t add that it would go to her food supply becoming her sandwich bread for the week. He had an entire tirade against bread that she had no desired to hear again, let alone comment on.
“But what about me?” he asked.
Eloise frowned. “What about you?” she asked puzzled.
“What are you making me?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Why would I?”
She looked at him. His frown depend and he opened his mouth ad closed it a few times as though unable to fathom someone using the kitchen for anything other than helping him out.
“You hate everything I make anyway and there is no reason I have to make you anything. We both live here, but so do a lot of people and we are all responsible for our own food.”
Somehow Travis believed that everyone cooking, male or female, in the house was there to assist him since he didn’t know how to cook. They had all decided not to assist him with this delusion any longer.
Ten til Midnight 