Sunday The Client finally came by to pick up his stuff. My husband assisted him, carrying 5 gallon buckets full of brown basmati rice, buckwheat groats and whole moong dal out to The Client’s car. Farewell, big bucket of organic coconut oil. I’ll never forget the time we spent together.
My husband (left) escorting The Client (right) inside the house to my work kitchen.
The moment was emotional but thankfully I had my husband there for me, reminding me that The Client was really no good for me. I thought The Client was putting off picking up the stuff because he didn’t want to deal with the task of sorting through and putting stuff away once it was back at his home and cluttering up his personal space. But in the true fashion of men, The Client did not even remember half the crap he had stored in my kitchen.
Sifting through the boxes, he picked out bags and jars of spices that he didn’t want to deal with. Leaving me with his organic garbage, he made his way out of my kitchen–out of my life for good.
Although we were only together for a short period of time, I can’t ignore the impact The Client had on my life. But everything is a learning experience and from my time with him I learned not to undervalue the services I have to offer. And I also learned some things about myself. I learned that I don’t think Italian cooking is superior to Indian. That I have a low tolerance for people who do not swoon over khandvi. And that I would never ever ever used dried chopped up curry leaves in my cooking, no matter how many times the person paying me to cook for him would ask.
Now that I am liberated from cooking with canned cannelllini beans (a smell, I must admit, I find revolting) I can focus my time on cooking for my husband, who accepted early on in our relationships that I am not open to cooking requests.