Everything has something that makes them tick.
Sometimes it’s a battery.
Sometimes that battery is dead.
Thought there were words enough there to get a story going. Sometimes that battery is dead. So there is the review of the day, the asking of feeling, maybe a revisiting of memory and looking for holes. Perhaps it is safe to visit the box labeled “dead to me” for some thing, some spark, some emotion to send one on a trajectory.
But no. Instead she goes to the refrigerator to see what needs doing or eating. It’s the default place to look when nothing else comes to mind.