My mother used to peel oranges for me when I was younger. Small uncoordinated hands and a tough thick peel just didn’t work together. Even now I hate peeling. I’m just too impatient.
To spend three minutes undressing a piece of fruit, picking off the thin white covering below the peel like hairs off a black wool coat is not worth it when you find out the coat is not yours and the fruit inside is bitter.
Much like when I was younger, I’m tired of eating oranges unless the seller can prove to me that he is not selling me a “nut” instead.
But, how would life truly be if we didn’t bite into a nut every once in a while: simple, too simple?
Bring on the cashews, almonds, pecans . . .
