It's 11.30 a.m. The beginning of autumn. I have been writing for three
hours, and it's time for lunch – or, perhaps, a late breakfast depending
on how you see it. Lunch today will be a cheese sandwich. This is
always my lunch when I'm at home writing, so not much decision-making
has happened here.
I remove my headphones, close my notebook and
laptop, get up from my desk, and walk the few steps to the kitchen. I
take three slices from the sandwich loaf we have on hand, and place them
flat on the breadboard – which in Swedish homes often pull out from the
kitchen counter.
I grab margarine and cheese – this time it's a
widely-available variety called prästost (priest cheese) – from the
fridge, and place them on the countertop. I reach over to the drying
rack and fish out the cheese slicer and a butter knife from amongst the
flatware.
I use the butter knife and slicer every day so they
never actually reside in any particular kitchen drawer. The rack is
their home.
Next, I open the margarine tub and, using the knife,
scrape generous curls, which I spread – to all corners – of the bread
slices. With the cheese slicer I plane long, evenly thick pieces from
the cheese wedge.
It is important for the surface of the cheese
wedge to remain level throughout this slicing, and subsequent slicings.
In Sweden, a person who slices unevenly from a cheese wedge is looked
down upon. The wedge this person has cut from is disparagingly called a
“skidbacke” – because it resembles a ski slope.
Once the cheese
slices have been successfully Tetrised on the bread, I horizontally cut
the sandwich. I only cut sandwiches diagonally on special occasions; if
I'm requested to; or if the contents of the sandwich warrant it.
I
return the cheese and margarine to the fridge. I place the sandwiches
on a saucer and walk to our sofa, where I read an article on my phone,
which I saved from yesterday. It takes me eight minutes to eat my
sandwiches, after which I head back to the kitchen, drink a glass of
water, and wash the dishes.
Lastly, I use the palm of my hand to
sweep the breadboard clean of crumbs, deposit them in the garbage can,
before pushing the board back into the counter. I then walk to my desk,
put my headphones on, open my notebook and laptop, and start writing
again.