I’m not very good about feeding myself. If I have someone else to feed then dinner is on the table by 8:00. Left to make food for myself, I generally choose not to. Mr. Levine reminds me on weekends. It’s stupid, really, because I’ll eat a handful of grapes for breakfast, start feeling moody by 11, and then feel sick by 1. By that point, the day is shot and even if I eat a full meal I won’t feel better until the next day. But he’s gone and I was just staring in the fridge when I decided to write about looking for food instead of making some.

As I stood with the refrigerator door open for way too long, I suddenly thought, Grilled cheese and tomato soup! My second thought was cut off in midstream—do we have cheese slices—because I knew that we did. Although I’d never thought of it before, my husband always buys cheese slices. I rarely see him eat them, but he always buys them. If they are around, I will always eat them in a moment of desperation. And I always buy tomato soup. Together we make a perfect meal, if one of us has remembered to buy the bread. What I find nice, though, is that he reminds me to eat even when he isn’t here.

Okay, off to finally make that meal…