Really, you’d think I’d know better by now. But no, apparently not.
See, there’s this guy (isn’t there always?) I haven’t heard from him for a while; he’s been away. I email to say hi. He emails to say hey, great to hear from you, unfortunately I’m in bed with tick bite fever.
I say, you know, it’s just been Pesach and we have unholy quantities of leftover chicken soup. Sick guys always need chicken soup, right? I can bring some round. But then, a couple of days later, Kolya’s having a particularly restless afternoon and I find that it’s necessary to take him for a long drive. I know what I’ll do, I think, I’ll take some of Anita’s chicken soup round to ailing friend.
Which is exactly what I do. Except that when I get there, restless child is fast asleep in the car, which precludes my going into the house to deliver it. Plus, by now I’m feeling shy about arriving unannounced at the home of a new acquaintance who is probably feeling shite and not in the mood for surprises.
So, not thinking too hard, I leave the container of chicken soup in the shady garage. On the bonnet of his car. And send a quick email to say that I’ve taken the liberty of leaving this little gift. (No, for some reason, I do not have a phone number.)
Later that evening, a terrible thought occurs to me. Assuming that the email goes unreceived (I mean, there are apparently people in this world that do not check their email several times daily, as I do), it could well turn out that said container of chicken soup gets left in the garage for … who knows how long.
By the time this thought occurs to me, it’s a bit late, and I reckon no normal person goes THAT long without checking their email. Or using their car. Do they?
A day passes. Then another. By this stage, I am wondering about the fate of the dreadful chicken soup. Please do not ask at this stage why I do not have a useful phone number for this person. I just don’t.
By now, I must admit, I am also feeling more than a little sheepish. And fairly concerned. It seems to me that a container of festering botulent chicken soup is much worse than no chicken soup. In fact I don’t think I can ever look a bowl of chicken soup in the matzo ball again. I still have not heard the outcome. I am sincerely hoping that the chicken soup did not kill my friend. I am also hoping that the tick bite fever did not kill him. But I am oh-so-curious to know the fate of that container of chicken soup. If anyone has news of it, please let me know.