Cauliflower in the fridge
What is the last thing you would try to get from your fridge, after everything else is gone? In my house, it would be a cauliflower. We don't particularly like that vegetable, so the poor thing tends to stay a long time resting in the drawer before anyone remembers to rescue it and put an end to its misery. It usually happens when the miserable vegetable has reached a certain age, and shows it. Therefore, it is even more unappealing for the tastebuds than ever. Sometimes in my home, we only remember the existence of the dejected plant when it is about to shrink of sadness, and the it is good for nothing but thickening a vegetable soup.
Today I feel pathetic as a cauliflower in the fridge. Maybe it is because I am tired. Maybe it is because my task for this week is quite idiotic. Maybe it is because I have been nursing a headache for almost a week now. Maybe it is because we all have blah days in which we think we deserve a cup of hot chocolate, some freshly baked cookies and we don't get them. It is nobody's fault. Well, I have a tiny little self-centered reason to feel like a cauliflower. Tonight is the night of the Corporation Journalism Awards in Sao Paulo. It is the 30th edition and there is going to be a big party. I was twice nominated this time, and though my chances to win are very slim, I would have loved to join the general mayhem and be a part of the festivities. I asked my big boss -- the corporation pays airline tickets and boarding to all the nominees from out of state -- but he wasn't enthusiastic about it. He believed it was going to disrupt the work. And here I am, working in an idiotic piece about road holes, and feeling like Cinderella without the fairy godmother.
I shouldn't be feeling so vegetable-like. This is childish. I am going for a big trip in a few days, and should be extra-excited. Well, I am. Mostly. Cauliflowers tend to think they are taking too much room in the fridge. Room which could be more usefully occupied by more interesting stuff like spears of aspargus, French mushrooms, sensible corn on the cob, baby tomatoes, versatile eggplants, sophisticated endives, embittered arugulas and worldly artichokes. In cauliflower mood, I half expect that at any time someone is going to open the fridge door and say. "Ewwwwwww... there is only a cauliflower there. Let's eat out, honey".
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