Waltz with Potatoes

Firstly, apologies for the worse-than-usual grammar of the last entry.  I seemed to have lost all punctuating capabilities last night.

The orange saga continues.  This past weekend, as I settled into my bunk bed, I looked up at the bookshelf and saw a pile of orange peel.  "Did you bring orange peel from home?"  I asked Nic, who had plenty of opportunities along his journey to throw out his orange remains.  "Yup, can't sleep without it actually."  It must have traveled with him from the ferry to the bus, to Joe's place for dinner, and then the car ride up through the scary woods of Maine, into a house with plenty of trash cans.  But some people have travel oranges and some people sleeping oranges. 

I, on the other hand, am suffering a case of missing oranges.  I have lost the ability to purchase produce.  For two days now, I have gone into Stop & Shop, picked out produce, put them in my basket, checked out, and gone home, only to discover that they were missing- two beautiful navel oranges on Monday, and a bunch of scallion yesterday.  The chips, salsa, cans, ham… all there.  But not the produce.  It's the strangest thing.  (An onion did make it home on Monday, but not my oranges.  I don't know why.)  I'm not sure what kind of sickness this is, and where I keep leaving my produce, but my body really needs some Vitamin C.