When your best friend is over, and you pull some cottage cheese out of the fridge for her to have with some fruit, and when she goes to put it back away, she just stands in front of the open door, blinking, gaping into your fridge and trying to find even the smallest cottage-cheese-sized chink in the monolithic wall of leftovers, ingredients, condiments and beverages that you have carefully and creatively wedged into the only pattern in which it all fits. (It was way in the back, behind the pot of soup and on top of the yogurt & browned butter.)