Guys. Have you tried ramen? Not the fancy handmade kind, I’m talking the kind you get at the store for—well, it cost 17¢ when i was in college, anyway. I can taste it! I don’t learn this until mid-afternoon. My day starts with Metamucil again, because why not? My sister in law, Michelle, texts to check in and seconds the advice about rest, and adds, “overhydrate!” Her niece brought covid home from school to her parents at the end of last week so it’s not just us, which is weirdly comforting and also pretty depressing. I start noticing people on podcasts saying, “back during the pandemic,” and try not to feel too sensitive about it. They don’t realize they’re making that mistake. I make some English breakfast tea and head outside to mess with the morning glory vines that have taken over our garden since we left for a few days last week. They’re pretty unruly, but have really lovely deep purple blooms that I do quite like. The moonflower vines on the other side of the garden are completely out of control, starting to spread onto our neighbor’s fence. I mostly wind the vines back but run out of energy pretty quickly. The tea is still nice and warm when I get back inside and I decide to enjoy it, rather than thinking about how short that venture must have been.  I putter around a little and catch myself sniffing my fingers after absently rubbing a basil leaf between them. Did it even have a scent? I try again. No. Maybe the rosemary next to it? Also no.

I sit at the counter to finish my tea and register the web address www.SarahHasNoTaste.com. I kind of can’t believe it’s available, so I feel pretty lucky. 

For lunch, I make chicken ramen, going through the motions I always do even though I know it won’t matter. Do I even add the spice packet? I mean…sure. I think how maybe I’ll make a salad for dinner, if the vegetables are cold enough I might even be able to taste them. Plus, I’ve read that some people can taste vinegar, so that’s kind of exciting.

I sit down to eat, glumly eyeing a bowl of home grown cherry tomatoes that surely taste like nothing as I lift my spoon to my lips and holy God, it tastes…a lot like chicken ramen. Is this it? An all soup diet? I can make a mean soup. And, of course, the only thing better than soup…is the possibility of more soup. After polishing off the bowl, I nibble hopefully on another chocolate chip cookie, but alas. Lily spends a while tracking a bug on one of our windows, which Liam finally catches in some paper towel. “Go flush it,” I instruct, and he looks at me, horrified. “I’m going to set him free,” he says, going to the door and opening it, letting the bug fly away. “Go flush it,” he imitates me as he closes the door. I can’t say I don’t deserve it.

I spend most of my afternoon working on some knitting projects for Christmas presents that I won’t post about here. I finish one, and reward myself with one of Liam’s popsicles, since we’re out of strawberry bars. It mostly tastes like nothing, but I still feel pretty accomplished.

I chat with a couple of friends, including our dog walker, who doesn’t feel comfortable coming into our home until we all test negative. I get it, but it’s kind of a bummer. I miss seeing my friend most days, and Lily really misses her walking buddy. I open a package to find a scented candle I was really excited about and smile, thinking of the smelling spree I’m going to go on when this is all over. “I picture you, I don’t know. Frolicking through a meadow,” my friend says when I tell her about this, and I laugh. Frolicking is a good word.

For dinner, I decide to try some lentil soup that’s leftover in the fridge. It’s some of the best I’ve ever made, and I’m thrilled it tastes like anything when I try it, but I still know it doesn’t taste as good as it is. Still, I add ingredients to my grocery list to make another batch. The textures are amazing, I have to say. The carrots are this perfect almost-al dente, the lentils are sort of pleasantly mushy, the broth is thick. It’s got lemon juice in it, maybe that’s why I can taste it? Liam yells from the living room about how much he wants a taco as I practically lick the bowl clean. 

We somehow talk Liam into watching the first Harry Potter movie. He really doesn’t want to, but we ply him with popcorn and couch snuggles. The popcorn only has the faintest taste of salt and I ultimately give up on it, but Liam seems to love the movie, so overall it’s a huge win.