Today I took a can of Crambell’s Chicken and Dumpling Soup into work. I bought my own spoon, but it is from a thrift store. I invest in spoons from thrift stores as they are frequently stolen from work. They are even stolen from my desk. I know this because before I left work on Thursday I counted fifty six spoons in my drawer, and when I came in on Friday there were fifty-five. I will start taking pictures so I can identify which ones are being stolen. Perhaps there is a particular style the thief enjoys.
Dorothy talked to me today. She looked at my cup and asked me what I was eating. I told her that it was Chicken and Dumpling soup.
“Which ones are the dumplings?” she said, poking at the liquid with the straw she had in her hand. I stared for a while at the cup and concluded that the small, beige, featureless lump of material that floated was a dumpling. It differed marginally from what I assume is chicken only in texture.
“Are you sure?” she said, and walked away. As I put the cup in the microwave, another piece of food bobbed to the surface. I also noticed that I had bent the spoon I was holding almost in half.
I will purchase another one to maintain my supply.
The Normal Life I Have 