It was comforting to know that by Monday morning, there would be an out-of-date yoghurt in the fridge. It was something of a mystery because yoghurt consumption in the household had always been high. She wondered whether the good bacteria multiplied at the same rate as the bad bacteria or whether they called a truce on the use-by date. She’d always decided that it wasn’t worth risking an upset stomach over a fifty-two pence yoghurt. She'd also liked to think of the untouched cucumber portion decomposing in the bottom of the vegetable draw. She would pick it up and her index finger would sink into its curling, dissolving ridged skin and softening flesh at the cut edge, examine the stalk end to see if it could be pared down for eating and then put it in the compost bin on the basis that she would have just bought a new one. Buying the cucumber portion every week - knowing full well that in winter time it was unlikely to have been eaten,and would’ve been tasteless as it probably originated from somewhere so far off that it had been harvested a fortnight ago – had been her talisman for good health. Why it was sold as a ‘portion’ and not a ‘half’ she didn’t know but there couldn’t be many people who would eat it in one go. She had supposed that if it was labelled ‘Half a Cucumber’ then someone somewhere would want to see its partner and measure it to make sure that they were indeed precisely two halves of the same cucumber. But being healthy was more than just a matter of semantics.
She was pleased to see that the new occupier did things the same. Even though she’d passed on, she didn’t like her routine being changed.