I love living alone. I love tucking myself into my perfectly-Big Island Rachel-sized apartment, drinking tea, reading books, watching my stories, and tumbling my tumblr. I didn't leave my den yesterday, and I might not leave it today.
I may, however, kill myself with sweet, delicious oily salmon.
On Xmas day, Daddio called me and asked, "Did you get the salmon I sent you? I mailed to your office."
Oh. Oh no. OH NO!
Fish... mailed to my office... which is closed for two weeks for the holidays. The folks in the mail room will never speak to me again.
Fortunately, it was vacuum-sealed hard smoked salmon, so it was still good when I got back to the office on January 2. Also, our mail guy assured me that the mail room is familiar with the stink of rotting care-package food, especially when the boxes are addressed to the international students. (Considering how many Korean scholars we have, I imagine there have been some memorable incidents with kimchi.) (Wait, is that racist?)
The instructions on the box said that the salmon would keep at room temperature until it was opened, at which point it should be refrigerated and eaten within five days. I had it in my mind for about a week that I would save the salmon for a special occasion, that such a bounty should be shared with friends in a safe and loving environment with soft Motown music in the background.
Then I remembered that I never have anyone over and decided to just eat all the salmon myself.
I opened the package yesterday and I'm slowly, very slowly and carefully, working my way through it. I have to pace myself, because it's really salty and oily and has the potential to upset the delicate equilibrium of my ecosystem, in terms of both my body and my habitat. I can't spill a drop of the salmon liquid on the floor or my rug, or else the whole apartment will stink of fish until spring. And as for what will happen it I get too much of it inside of me--well, let's hope it doesn't come to that.