I was sent to the neighborhood grocery store closest to my house, and was asked to purchase a bag of rice there.
Of course I went happily. Rice is a single bag, not heavy on the pocket nor in the hand.
In addition, rice is my go-to dinner dish. Especially the way my wife cooks it, plain and not sticky. No fuss with toppings (preferably meat). Really yummy!
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And so I entered the store, settled on the rice shelf, quickened my steps, straightened my neck, extended my hand - and suddenly a strong tremor gripped my entire body.
There are too many types of rice, even more than rice grains: there is classic rice and basmati rice, Thai, Chinese or Persian rice, round or red rice, vacuum-packed or sushi rice.
And I, the little one, have no idea about all this. What to take? All I wanted was rice!
Slowly, I began to choose different types of rice, based on preferences.
Classical - No. I don't like classical music (if there was a rock and roll option I would take it).
Basmati - that word makes my stomach ache even before I've eaten the rice.
Thailandi - I'm still young for this kind of rice (my grandmother had a Thai worker).
Chinese - there are over a billion. I like to be unique.
Persian - With all due respect to Rouhani, I will not finance the construction of a nuclear reactor for him (why are Persian products sold, while products from the settlements are not?)
Since I am round and my life is not in a vacuum, and I drink red wine -
I took flakes.
