Leftover City

Do you ever open up your fridge to grab a jar of preserves or pickles, but you cannot find it because there is too much stuff in the way? Or do return from the grocery store and have trouble finding space for the perishables? Where does all that clutter come from? For me, it’s leftovers. It dawns on me that I have too many leftovers when I can no longer find a plastic container for new leftovers. Our large and small refrigerators become stuffed with all sizes of containers filled with all sorts of uneaten food.

Although I try to have a “leftover” dinner once a week, that does not always happen. So once a month I will be confronted with a totally unruly fridge and start pulling out containers of mystery foods, usually appallingly moldy. I will not offend your senses by inserting any photographs, but one of these days I should send a few of the more remarkable specimens to a nearby biological lab. No telling what miracle cure I might have created inadvertently.

It’s not that I mind leftovers, but they are usually small amounts of this and that, which do not add up to two servings or something Danny isn’t interested in eating anymore. Sometimes I will have one or two for lunch. The most frequently reheated leftovers are Danny’s favorite casseroles:  chilis rellenos, King Ranch chicken, lasagna, and chicken/pasta alfredo with toasted bread crumbs.

Usually:  I cook, we eat, I store. It is in our nature to feel guilty about throwing out food, unless it is not tasty enough to keep. Even the food that we love to eat can become biologic specimens. Such a shame. We should have a dog or a goat or a pig.

Then again, there are foods that I know are really old but have retained their “freshness.” Those totally appall me and go right into the trash. Sometimes I cannot force myself to even keep the container for fear the organisms have found microscopic gaps in the plastic and cannot be exorcised.

Perhaps we should have dinner guests every night so there won’t be any leftovers. When the kids were growing up, especially when the boys were in high school, there were no leftovers. Criminy, they could eat! Heck, they still do, but now if there are any leftovers they will take them home to their refrigerators.

Note:  As of this posting, my container cabinet is full and our refrigerators more easily navigable.

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About Cyranette

I have been writing since I was 11 and am now a grandmother of 9. Aside from my family, I love writing, reading, movies, gardening, genealogy, and travel. I met my soulmate online and we've been married 19 years. I am a survivor of rape, abuse, and cancer. I believe in love, kindness, and common sense. I was born/raised in Indiana and have lived in Massachusetts, Texas, and California. I have visited: most of the United States, British Columbia, Germany, Austria, and Costa Rica. My husband and I would like to visit England, Europe, and New Zealand and to take a train ride along the Canadian/American border. I have written essays, articles, short stories, a romance novel, a self-help book, and several children's books.
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