I’m snowed in, y’all. #1 Daughter and her husband have their cars at the head of the drive, so we could get out if we had to, but the GothMobile is stuck in the basement garage, unable to make it up the 45-degree slope from the basement to the flat drive. Make a drive-in basement, they said. It’ll be convenient, they said.
ANYWAY, we can still walk to Mom’s twice a day to feed her cat, who defecated and urinated and bullied-my-cat-inated her way out of my house and back to Mom’s. So I took the opportunity to photograph this pantry, which is damn near Dr. Whovian.
But wait! There’s more!
Pretty empty. Mom hadn’t eaten by mouth for five years, so there’s only a few things there, in case I was with her and I got hungry. Some recycling in there, too, because everything hasta be somewhere.
Time was, though, it would have been packed to the gills. Time was, Grandpa was the cook. Good food. Good times.
A WRITING PROMPT BASED ON MY POST: What’s in your main character’s pantry? Has it changed over time? Why or why not?