My Darling B sent me out to get egg noodles. I don’t know what egg noodles are.
“They’re wide and flat and curly,” she explained.
“They’re flat and curly?”
“Yes. They’re flat. But they’re curly.”
I couldn’t even imagine what that looked like.
“How wide are they? An inch wide? Three-quarters of an inch?”
“They’re about that wide,” she answered, holding her fingers about a half-inch apart.
“Okay. And how long are they? An inch long? Six inches?”
“They’re about as long as spaghetti noodles, but you can’t see them.”
“I can’t see them?”
“They’re in a bag.”
“They’re in a bag I can’t see through?”
“Well, you can, but you can’t.”
A bag that’s transparent but it’s not, something else I couldn’t imagine.
Eventually I had to fall back on this: “When I leave, I’m going straight to the store and I’m going to send some photos of noodles to your phone, so watch your phone for incoming texts with photos from me.”
And that’s how I bought egg noodles. I found three or four bags of flat noodles that were curly in different ways, snapped photos of them, and sent the photos to B, who responded with a message telling me which one to buy. Thank goodness for modern technology.