I danced around the kitchen, pirouetting from one cabinet to another, gathering supplies in no particular order.

My dog-shaped shadow follows along.

A tin of tuna. A medium-sized lidded bowl. A large spoon. The last three pickles from a jar in the back of the fridge.

There are two dozen eggs … maybe three dozen. The cartons were packed tightly in the refrigerator. So tightly I couldn’t make out a complete inventory.

I’d been thinking about this moment since my husband (now traveling for business) miscalculated how many elbow noodles he would need to make goulash for the two of us. Hence, I’ve ended up with pasta for days.

Now where is the mayonnaise? Didn’t I buy some the other day, or was that a dream?

It is the drawback of having only vague dreams. Vivid memories of strolling into the Post........

© The Saratogian