The organic vegetables that used to fill the fridge? Gone. Now it was wilted clearance greens from the supermarket's 8 p.m. markdown bin, and freezer-burned mystery meat that had been frozen since god knows when.
Lola was actually pretty pleased with herself, holding my annual food delivery statement and jabbing at it:
"Look! On food delivery alone, you blew over five grand in a year! That's all gutter oil—eat that and you'll die young!"
She turned and marched straight to the kitchen, chopping vegetables with aggressive thuds, announcing she was making Alex a "healthy, home-cooked lunch."
I glanced at that lunch box and nearly laughed out loud.
Boiled cabbage in plain water, not a drop of oil, with a few dark, blackish slices of fatty cured pork laid on top. She'd brought that from her hometown, calling it "free-range pork," but it was pure fat. Just looking at it made you feel greasy.
Alex started to protest, but Lola shot him a glare. "Food delivery is poison for lazy people! This is how Mom eats to live a real life!"
At three that afternoon, Alex messaged me on WeChat to complain.