Spoiled Fruit

November 19th, 2011

There are two kinds of people in the world.

(What a stupid, uninspired way to start something.  I promise never to begin another blog post this way.  Of course, there are two kinds of people in the world: those who keep their promises and those who don’t.)

Anyway, back to my first point.  There are two kinds of people in the world: those who eat the almost-spoiled fruit first, and those who eat the fresh, perfectly ripe fruit first. 

I want to be in the latter category.  I want to be the kind of person who grabs that perfectly yellow banana because it looks good and who stuffs it in her mouth with abandon.

But I’m not.  I’m the kind of person who thinks, “If I take the good banana, the almost-bad banana will become completely bad and will have to be thrown out and that’s such a waste.  So I’ll eat the almost-spoiled one now and I’ll eat the good one later.”

Once you set down that path, there’s no getting off of it.  Something is always on the verge of spoiling.

My friend Dawn once described avocados as being “sneaky little things” who are hard as a rock one day and turn to brown mush the second you turn your back on them.  She exaggerates: there’s a day or two in the middle when avocados are perfect: mellow and smooth and buttery.  Not that you’d know in our house where I always grab the overly ripe, blotchy avocado first, in the hopes of “salvaging at least a part of it” before it becomes completely unusable.  Of course that means that the next time I reach for an avocado, the perfect one I didn’t use before is now overly ripe.  Time waits for no man.

There might be a metaphor in this whole spoiled fruit thing.  Something about fear making you choose the less good thing or about how life is what you make of it or maybe just a “carpe diem” kind of thing.

Or . . . you know . . . not.

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