The Great Disgorgement continues apace. This morning, after about an hour's effort, a part of the hall closet floor that hasn't seen light in decades is clear and swept and awaiting a mop. Freedom beckons. Every item gathered and dispatched brings us closer to when we can flee.
This work carries a certain time capsule or almost archeological quality to it as well, even though the only history we dig through is our own.
For example, how, where, and why we obtained something marketed as a breakfast cereal made from chia, buckwheat, and hemp seeds remains a complete mystery. I have trouble believing we would have bought it ourselves. While the Husband and I pride ourselves on having more adventurous pallets than the meat and potato crowd, I believe one of his lines has been seeds that get smeared in a paste over pottery to create furry, green creatures.
That leaves the possibility of a gift from.....a well-wisher? Or merely someone who doesn't know us very well? Or a re-gifter? Some poor soul whose great aunt Magnolia has bestowed upon them this largess of alleged healthful food and they turned around to share it with us? But the gift thesis suffers from the cereal not being gift-wrapped but appearing a rather tatty, old plastic bag... No matter, somehow, by one of the great mysteries of the universe, this alleged comestible came to us and sat in our closet.
Honestly, I think my attitude toward such things has expanded enough that I might have been willing to try it, if it hadn't been for the date stamp, suggesting its last most edible moment occurred almost eight years ago. I could wrap my mind around trying chia and hemp seed (buckwheat I already knew) if they were "fresh." But knowing that these are almost a decade old? That's a bridge too far even for me.
I wonder if they would sprout