Playing at it.

For the second time of the week, I became a cat care volunteer, offering large slices of fish to strays around my place. Unfortunately, it wasn't very well-received by them at all!

For the first time since we moved in, we tried cooking for ourselves, a meal of fish and angmoh soup. Batang fish is quite nice, but this Toman species is really tasteless and dull, and it was a waste that it came in such large slices. We could just imagine this huge fish swimming happily in the sea meeting up with two tragic fate, first being caught in the net and second being rejected at the dining table.

So I took the slice and walked around downstairs trying to find cats to feed. After walking 2 round, I found one that sniffed it for ages, took a miniscule bite off it, then lost interest. Another ran away when I approached, and I had to waste the huge chunk of meat. The memory of seeing this National Geographic picture of a fishmonger selling a long string of fish bones to the poor people in Africa who couldn't afford the meat itself keep appearing in my mind. The entire episode happened again today, but with the same cat eating a bit more of it.

And it seems like the two of us are simply playing 'house', trying to act out a semblance of life as a 'normal' married couple. Buying groceries, cooking, cleaning up. The truth though, we really don't want to go through the trouble of cooking unless we are hosting or just want a couple activity, and I haven't moped the floor the last two Sundays.

Still I like things the way they are now. I was always abhorrant of the banality of the cloistered married couple, shut up in their own home (T.S. Eliot's poewrful images of this in 'Rhapsody on a Windy Night' is firmly etched in my mind). Cooking is more fun when it is not a necessity.