There has been some talk on a forum I frequent about drying flowers in a desiccant. I was insistent that silica gel is the one of choice because I remember doing it years ago. Eventually after some argy bargy about the dangers of silica gel, including the worries of another contributor that someone might accidentally eat the silica, which I thought highly unlikely, given that it comes in little bags printed with the words: DO NOT EAT, I was driven to look it up. I quickly found a site with a list of desiccants, which enumerated a number of substances, including silicates and, at the bottom, oatmeal.
My mind took flight………………
Like a vampire…………………………………………….
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Vlad was glad he had got into the kitchen so far ahead of Gladys. He reached into the cupboard and got the box of breakfast cereal. His slim fingers, with the wonderfully long, strong nails, grasped the box and withdrew it. Clutching the box in a vice-like grip he headed for the back door. Outside he paused for a moment; which one was the dustbin? He chose the black, his favourite colour,opened the lid and fell back reeling from the onslaught of the odours. Decay! Resisting the urge to jump in, he emptied the box into the bin and returned to the kitchen. Carefully Vlad slid the daily paper under the empty cereal box. In the hall he listened; the wails of his wife, singing in the shower, drifted down the stairs. He retrieved his briefcase, which was lying on the bottom step and, furtively rummaging, he located the small bag, tied at the top in a knot. Grasping it in a cautious finger and thumb he carried it into the kitchen and placed it on the paper. Scissors? Where were the scissors? He opened and shut drawers in a frenzy; why was nothing ever in the right place? Why did she spend all her days papercrafting, macrameing, and furnishing dolls houses, why could she not just tidy up? He banged his way down the set of drawers and across all the drawers under the sink. From upstairs came a: Yoohoo!
Vlad went into the hall and looked up, there she was, wrapped in towel and dripping all over the brand new blood red carpet. She looked down at him, her wet hair running rivulets onto her shoulders: Are you looking for something?
NO!
Yes, you are, I heard you opening all the drawers.
NO I’m not.
What are you looking for?
The scissors.
Why didn’t you just say? Nail scissors, papercrafting scissors, embroidery scissors, kitchen scissors or pinking shears?
I don’t know. What’s the difference? I just want scissors.
What do you want scissors for?
To cut something.
What?
Does it matter?
Of course it matters, you can’t go cutting paper with dressmaking scissors, you’ll blunt them. What do you want to cut?
UM………….a coupon out of the paper.
Oh well just use the kitchen scissors, then. Do you know where they are?
Yes.
Where are they then?
I don’t know.
I’ll come down and show you.
NO! No, don’t do that, you’re all wet, you’ll catch cold. I’ll…………wait. I’ll wait until you come down.
OK! Put the kettle on, I’ve just got to put my hair in curlers and I’ll be down.
Vlad returned to the kitchen, feverishly aware that he was running out of time. He picked up the little bag and looked at it. Could he risk cutting it with a fingernail? What if some of it got on him?
What have you got there?
Nothing! Nothing at all! It’s…………..the paper, with the coupon.
Giving him an odd look Gladys dripped into the kitchen and opened the knife drawer…………
Coupon for what?
It’s a secret (idiot, idiot, blithering idiot, what a stupid thing to say,) um, surprise. It’s a surprise, um, for you. (devils, that was amateurish – will she buy it?)
Well I hope it’s not a surprise for any other woman.
(That was close) Of course not, my heart (and lungs) only for you.
Gladys handed him the scissors: here you are, do you want a stamp?
Why would you stamp on me? (She suspects something!)
What? A stamp!
?
A postage stamp! For posting the coupon!
Oh! (I overthink these things sometimes, I must stop doing that) Thank you.
I’ll get you one when I come back down, I don’t want to drip all over it.
As Gladys dripped back up the stairs Vlad lifted the bag out of his pocket by the knot and swiftly snipping the bag at the bottom corner, held his breath as the deadly beige powder cascaded into the empty box. When the bag was void of all content he scrumpled it into his pocket and peered into the box. Beige death lay in a half inch layer on the bottom of the family sized cereal box, in a dusty, unconvincing way. Vlad opened the cupboard, looking for nut clusters or dried strawberries, or chunky lumps of coconutty goodness but found only gravy powder and teabags. What did she make his dinners out of? It was a total mystery.
A humming announced the arrival of Gladys down the stairs. Quickly Vlad folded the paper and slid the cereal box back into the space by the knife rack. Gladys entered the kitchen resplendent in curlers, an anti-blackhead nose cleansing strip, wooden anti-gravity thigh workout sandals, neoprene jogging shorts and IPod headphones. Humming tunelessly she smiled and nodded her head, in time to the music, at Vlad. She reached for the cereal box; not daring to breathe, nodding in an equally asinine manner, Vlad waited. Gladys hesitated.
I think I’ll have toast.
(Ye devils and little fishes!) Carbs!
Pardon?
Carbs!
What?
Vlad gestured taking off of headphones. She removed one earphone.
What?
Carbs. I thought you were cutting down on carbs.
Right. Yes I did say so, didn’t I? Apple – I’ll have an apple.
She plinged the earphone back in and headed for the dining room. Like forked lightening Vlad whipped out a bowl from the cupboard, tipped the contents of the box into it, swooshed open the drawer, grabbed a dessert spoon and flung it into the bowl. It raised a little dust cloud that settled back just as she came into the kitchen, still humming and waving her head around like a lunatic with an anti blackhead nose strip on. She saw the bowl and stopped.
What’s this?
Cereal.
What?
Cereal – (Does she suspect? I should have put raisins in it!) Take your headphones off! Off!
Sorry, what did you say? I had my headphones on.
Cereal. I’ve poured it for you.
No good. Carbs.
Research shows that you have to have some carbs to help you through the burn.
Carb loading?
Is it? I mean, yes, what a good idea. Carb loading, yes.
Yeah, right, like you’ve suddenly taken an interest in fitness. The unfairness of it is – you’re so thin and you do nothing, nothing at all.
(25 mile round trip, I flew last night, while you were snoring) as you say dear, nothing. I’m just naturally thin and pale, lucky me. Anyway, for those of us who need to work out – acceptable carbs in the form of cereal. Keep you going till lunch.
Thank you, sweetie, you do look after me. I’ll get the milk.
Milk’s in.
It doesn’t look milky……..
It’s sunk to the bottom.
It looks a bit dry though. I’ll top it up.
Fat!
Pardon?
Fat. Milk is fat. It will sit on your hips. As fat. You might as well add a bar of lard as add extra milk. It’s fat.
I thought milk was protein.
And fat. More fat than protein really. Mostly fat. For protein you need something meat based. (Like blood.) Not milk. (Now I’ve made myself hungry.) Cereal is good though, keeps you going, with a little milk. Already in there. Lovely. Yum Yum Yum.
Perhaps you’re right. I’ll have this and then I’ll just blow off to the gym.
(You have no idea……….)
Gladys picked up the spoon and raised the dusty cereal to her
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JaneLaverick.com – more later in the week!