I chip off a few nuggets of frozen pesto from the tupperware in the icebox and let it melt waiting for the noodles to cook. My uncle larry, a bachelor like me except twice my age, doesn’t believe in frozen foods. “It kills something in the molecules”, he explained. I, on the other hand, like to cook in large batches and then be able to coast for a while on my efforts. The chlorophyll in the thawed basil turns the noodles green. Later, swigs of beer reignite the raw garlic fire in my mouth. I strip the sheets off my bed and remake it with fresh ones. Tomorrow is laundry day. It’s been weeks.

Waiting for the train to work I was standing next to the garbage can. This guy with large scabs and half a shirt on came walking up with a sack of snacks and an open beer. He stopped right in front of me, set down his bag, and took a big pull off his beer. I was able to see he was carrying two tomatoes and umpteen individually wrapped slices of yellow cheese, which seemed a pretty sensible choice for a man on the go. He stood looking down surveying his holdings, and then poured the rest of his beer into his grocery bag and neatly placed his can in the trash receptacle.