Domesticity

I have (frighteningly) settled right into a domestic life here while Red’s parents have been on holiday.  I look forward to baking, cooking, sewing, grocery shopping.

I have baked cookies, muffins, cake, banana bread.  I have cooked some delicious meals as well as some truly inedible ones.  I learned a valuable lesson about measuring out chili powder appropriately instead of guesstimating measurements.  Apparently the difference between one teaspoon and one tablespoon is a big one.

Today I went on my daily shop.  I walked to the grocery store and meandered around the aisles looking sufficiently beleaguered.  You never know how much you take for granted your own societal nuances until you’re faced with another’s.  I would have thought that a supermarket is a supermarket is a supermarket, that the layout would not widely diverge from one English-speaking country to another.  Or that the things you find common place, like the placement of sour cream next to cottage cheese in the dairy aisle, are obviously universal.  What you weren’t prepared for, however, is the fact that England is not a neighbor to Mexico and the use of sour cream in recipes isn’t so normal and therefore not given as much shelf space at the grocery store, prominently sitting next to the hoards of cottage cheese containers like it is in the United States.  No, the sour cream is marginalized from the supermarket mainstream and in the far corner of the dairy section next to the double cream (what is double cream??).  And once you find the two containers of sour cream the grocery store has on offer, suddenly you feel quite naive to have thought you might find a dairy-free alternative.  Ha.  Haha.  Silly, you.

Long story short: the grocery store looks like it has the trappings of an American grocery store, giving me a false sense of confidence, but the facade quickly fades and I feel lost in the produce section, considering no fewer than eight different varieties of potato identified only by the price in pounds sterling per kilogram.

I hate the metric system.

I am getting ready to prepare dinner.  Red should be home in about 50 minutes.  I really miss going to a yoga studio.  I found one in the nearby town, Chelmsford, but when I stopped to determine the time and money involved in traveling on the train or bus to Chelmsford from Witham, I realized the high cost and long commutes just weren’t worth it.  We are moving on the 15th, which is just one week away.  I hope to find an inexpensive yoga studio (I think I’m being naive).  I’m looking forward to being in the Stamp and getting started with school.  I know that the start of school probably means I’ll be spending less time cooking and baking, something in which I have found much joy.  I am mostly eager for finding out just how much work I have ahead of me.

This has been the longest summer of life.  I’m not used to not being a student.  I feel that my brain might have atrophied.

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