Chronic anthropomorphism?

But, tell me, if this isn't grim determination what is it?
In the week preceding Alice's demise she bought a red cabbage, of which more later.
Due to obvious circumstances I haven't felt much like culinary operations. Finally I dived/dove (UK/USA) into the abyss known as the veg cupboard, wherein lurked, amongst other things, The Cabbage, still entombed in shrink-wrap.
It's been frantically clawing its way out for a month.
Time I set about it?
I finally did.
Eventually.