Besides I, there is a King Charles Spaniel who wants to taste everything, including vegetable peels, potted herbs, and dust bunnies.
There is an ex-boyfriend, who shares custody of said spaniel and who remains a perpetually welcome dinner guest, in large part because he is good company and in small part because he may not eat anything at all if left to take care of himself. His refrigerator contains little more than un-scientific science experiments, apparently designed to test his theories about When Will That Food Get Up and Walk Away on Its Own.
Moreover, there is my inability to pass by a farmers' market without buying enough food to feed a small, exceedingly fussy commune, if there is such a thing. While examining the selection of goods for sale I am struck with a temporary but powerful form of amnesia that prevents me from recalling the size of my kitchen, the space available in the refrigerator, and the number of persons expected to come to dinner within the next few days (typically not a dozen or even half a dozen). Yet I am thrifty, increasingly thrifty, and cannot stand to let my best finds go uneaten. Hence I am sometimes — often — going to be "we."