When you live alone, it's funny how opening the fridge door almost determines your mood for the day.

If I open it and find it full of food, I happily ponder, "What should I eat this time?" But if it's empty, I think, "What to eat... there's really nothing..."

Both are dilemmas, but the feelings are worlds apart, right? Haha.

These days, my fridge is always half full. Basic items like kimchi, eggs, and takeout food.

The other half consists of a berry mix I bought on sale and forgot about, soup that can be heated up, and half-finished almond milk. It strangely looks like there's a lot to eat, but nothing really appeals to me, you know that kind of combination?

One night, I opened the fridge at 11 PM, stared at it for a while, closed it, then opened it again...

I even mumbled to myself, "What should I eat today...."

But in the end, I ended up boiling ramen. Living alone, this is both a joy and a small emptiness.

On the other hand, when I come home with a lot of groceries, I spread everything out in the living room and feel pleased all by myself.

If I have red tomatoes, ripe avocados, and a pack of chicken legs, it feels like a feast day. But strangely, on those days, deciding on a menu becomes harder. I could grill chicken, make a salad, or even pasta, so the options become overwhelming.

I once lay down to turn on Netflix, promising myself not to lie down until I decided what to eat... and ended up just washing and eating grapes. Even though cooking is just part of life when living alone, the taste changes with the mood.

On rainy days, I crave braised potatoes, on good days I want to eat freshly baked scones with jam, and on payday, I want to grill steak and have a glass of wine to treat myself. But the reality is mostly fried eggs and a bowl of rice with a bit of kimchi. Still, after eating, it strangely feels satisfying.

Nashville has plenty of dining options, but if I don't take the time to prepare a meal for myself, I feel a bit empty inside.

The contents of my fridge seem to reflect my life rhythm. When it's full, I feel relaxed, and when it's empty, I feel a bit lonely. Yet, sometimes I look at my empty fridge and think, "Okay, let's have a mental diet this week," and I can laugh it off.

Living alone feels like a cycle of laughing at these little things and comforting myself. If I open the fridge and find little to eat, I can just go grocery shopping, and if there's too much, I can take my time choosing what to cook.

What does it matter? No one is here to judge. So, the fun of living alone seems to lie in these small choices in daily life.

Today's menu? As I write, I've decided. I have frozen chicken wings in the freezer, right? I'll put them in the oven, and a salad on the side.

It's my little feast for one.

It's true that whether the fridge is full or empty, it's still a dilemma.