It’s 8 pm on a Thursday and my stomach is growling for food.
After hours of staring at my laptop screen, the glow of my microwave clock providing an extra bit of light in an otherwise dimly-lit apartment, I finally gather the motivation to step into my kitchen. My refrigerator is stocked with a few ingredients (kumato tomatoes, lemons, mini pears, apples, a box of arugula and a carton of eggs) and my pantry holds the usual (pasta, rice, beans). I’m hungry but can’t decide what to eat. And because I waited until the very last moment to feed myself, I’m running low on energy to actually cook. Instinctively, I grab my phone, open Uber Eats and order food from my go-to neighborhood restaurant. I’m relieved, yet hit with a pang of guilt.
