181/365 02/19/2026 (Extra 03)

My dad fell in love with fig spread. He tried it on a sandwich and said, “Oh my god this is divine!” He said things like that back then. Now he’s dead, so he doesn’t say much? But back then he was all, “divine!” and “fantabulous!” and things like that. Not in front of my friends, though. In front of them he was mostly just a normal dad.

Anyway, when my dad fell in love with fig spread he told me he was going to put it on every shopping list. “Every time! It’ll be marvelous. Fig spread at every meal!” And he did. And honestly? For a while it was fine. He ate it on biscuits and muffins and bagels and bread. He ate it a lot. But then he stopped, but he didn’t stop. He stopped eating it, but he didn’t stop buying it, and slowly, slowly, then all of a sudden our fridge was nothing but fig spread. “How odd,” my dad said. “There’s not really room for the spinach.” 

Me? I was 10. What the hell was I going to do?