I sat there and looked at the meager dry goods in our cupboard for a long time, debating what to make. Resigning myself to mediocrity, I took a box of “deluxe” Hannaford shells and cheese from one of the shelves and set up a pan with some water to boil for the shell noodles.

“Why must I settle for this paltry fare?” I asked. “Hashtag first world problems,” I added, in case anyone was listening and silently judging me.

Suddenly – a mist began to swirl from the opened box of generic pasta. I dropped it in fright and backed against the wall. A gorgeous woman appeared in a cloak covered in shining stars and nebulas. She was carrying a globe in one hand and a peg in the other, and she gave me a wry smile.

“Name’s Urania,” she said. “What’s the dilly-o, daddy-o? Got a case of the tumbly rumblies? Bored of your normal food? Hashtag first world problems.”

“I already said that,” I replied. I was suddenly mortified. “Were you silently judging me?”

“Kind of, dude.”

With that, she grabbed the sides of my head and looked into my eyes. Hers were a dark brown but her pupils widened and expanded until I was suspended within the cosmos itself. She had disappeared, leaving me in limbo. There was a flash of light and I heard the word “leftovers” whisper through my thoughts.

Then, just like that – I was home again and had finished cooking my meal. I took a bite of the random food I had thrown together from the fridge and added to the “deluxe” mac and cheese. I’d added fresh mushrooms, which I’d sauteed. I’d sliced in half some plump cherry tomatoes and caramelized them. I’d boiled some broccoli and diced it up to disperse within the thick, yellow cheese. On top of that, I had cooked some hearty sweet apple pork sausages and placed the links on top of the dish along with some milled black pepper.

“Thank you, Urania,” I whispered as I ate the now-palatable food.

I heard the word “Tums” whisper in reply through my thoughts.