Disinfecting the Disinfectant.
By Ashton Politanoff.
Day
For breakfast, I pour the remainder of almond cluster cereal into a bowl. I use a soup spoon and measure out from the near empty yogurt pint. I slice the unrotted half of a banana, mix it all together.
For lunch, I pan fry a piece of salami in vegan butter. I pull a frozen loaf of bread out of the freezer and toast a slice while I cook an egg. With two spatulas I flip over the egg and add a square of sharp cheddar on the cooked side. When the cheese melts, I know it’s done. I make an open-face sandwich. First bite the yolk spills, runs all over the plate.
Dinner is the final frozen pizza, not enough for the whole family. My wife roasts seven spears of asparagus. We each have three. One goes to our son. “Yucky,” he says.
Day
Groceries arrive at 7:45: tortillas, already-peeled garlic cloves, goat butter, sea salt, salsa verde, jarred tikka masala simmer sauce, sweet potatoes, spinach, milk & cookies ice cream, 3 lbs. chicken cutlets, 85/15 ground beef, spanish chorizo, block of pepper jack, persian pickles, more disinfectant spray. I disinfect the disinfectant spray.
I feel a little sing-songy.
Stop it, my three-year old says. Don’t say funny words when I’m eating.
Okie-dokie, I say.
Stop it!
Day
At 9 AM, I carefully slice one garlic clove with the rubber-handled knife. On the non-stick pan, I pour olive oil, toss the sliced garlic, brown half the chicken cutlets, about a pound and a half. The slow cooker is waiting. I pour everything inside, including two jars of salsa verde. Have trouble twisting open one of the jars and injure my ring-finger on my non-ring hand. Slice very precisely one more clove, like I’m Paul in Goodfellas when they’re making spaghetti sauce in prison, and mix it in with the rest. It cooks for eight hours on low heat. I ice my finger on the couch. The house smells good all day.
Day
At 10 AM, I slow cook the rest of the chicken with the tikka masala. I use my other hand to open the sauce jars. Only one garlic clove is sliced this time.
There’s a patch of sun on our balcony. I find a blanket and apply thick sunscreen to my face without rubbing it in all the way. My son’s toy blocks go in the shade but he’s more interested in my phone. My wife joins us outside, where I am mid-boat pose, trying to hold it. My wife tells me to breathe. She tells me about Adriene’s 5 Minute Abs on YouTube.
I’m breathing, I say, before I let go and head back inside.
Day
It’s 6 minutes, I say.
What?
It’s 6 minute Abs with Adriene. Yesterday you said 5 minutes.
Oh.
Day
We’re craving cookies but lack all the ingredients. Find an old bag of Lay’s, some flour, little butter, pepper jack. Crush the chips and mix in the flour, the butter, shred the cheese. My son helps me make some balls. Just like Play-doh, I tell him. We bake them in the oven. They’re not great, but we eat most of them.
Later, my wife feels sick. I have to use the bathroom several times. Son feels fine. Runs around the living room into the kitchen, lap after lap.
Chase me, chase me! the boy says.
No one does.
@APolitanoff
