I’m not quite sure whether people really consider reality shows to be real or not.  Hard for me to believe they would, although taking the present presidential elections into account, I have lowered my expectations of people a good deal.  In my house, however, there is no need for the diversion of viewing other people’s lives, be it Honey Boo Boo or the Kardashians.  There is plenty of unexpected activity from day-to-day to keep me as entertained as I care to be.

Take yesterday, for example. I was all ready for my masseuse to arrive for my massage when I realized I had the time wrong and he wouldn’t be there for three more hours. Too long to wait for  lunch as I was already hungry, so I put a bit of hot and sour soup on the stove that was left over from dinner with a friend the night before.  It was meant to have wontons added and I thought instead of boiling them in the broth as I usually did, I’d prepare them as my friend had advised–browning them in a bit of oil, then adding a small bit of water and putting the lid on to steam them.  The problem was that once they were browned, they were so nice and crispy that I didn’t want to limp them up again, so I put them on paper towels to drain the grease off and poured the soup into a bowl.  I’d float a few in the soup and put the remainder of the wontons on a dish to the side.

I tasted  one.  Yum!  As I moved the others to the plate, however, one rolled off the large slotted spoon and landed on the floor.  No problem, I thought, as the floor had just been washed. Perhaps I’d just dust it off and eat it anyway, but as I leaned down to pick it up, I saw a slight movement. It took a minute to register that lying as close as possible to the wonton  was a cockroach, now on it’s back with feet up in the air.  It was then that I realized that when the wonton had fallen, it had fallen directly on the cockroach, knocking it for a loop.  It was just now that it was starting to regain consciousness and its legs waved a bit in the air before I administered final rites by stepping on it.  I then picked up bug and wonton for simultaneous entombment in the garbage can.

It was then that the utter absurdity of death by wonton hit me.  Did it seem an appropriate death?  It was not usual for a roach to venture out into the light of day.  This one must have been led to its sad demise by an overwhelming love of wonton–its aroma as it bubbled in the hot grease just so irresistible that it overrode the roach’s usual schedule of secretive midnight meanderings.  It died considering doing something it loved to do––namely, to mount and have its way with any food it might find in its path, making it useless for human consumption.  What irony that in its final act of culinary terrorism, for once the food got the better of it.

Death by wonton.  Not a bad way to go.