Dear Leftovers,
Oh, you mock me! Sitting there in the fridge, embodying my wastefulness, my wanton eating habits, my wayward grocery choices. You, with your congealed fat and grease, your separating ingredients, your frigid flesh, you judge me.
How am I to face you the next day? How am I to soften what has hardened overnight? Such a difference between hot-off-the-stove in a fit of passion the night before, and the cold logic of lunch the next day! I am showered, I have changed, and yet you must confront me with the day before, holding me in a clutch of guilt so strong I cannot move on.
I cannot throw you out, and yet I cannot bring myself to willingly sit down with you again. If I make myself, we eat in silence. Resentful, dried-up or melting mushy silence. Dissatisfied, I judge all others who come after you– passing them along to friends or refusing them on the spot, not allowing any one the chance to prove me wrong.
How am I to commit to you? Five days may as well be for eternity. I would just as soon let you hide and rot until my guilt it assuaged by your green envy of other, fresher food. “Ha! I cannot eat you now!” I think. I throw you out and only feel a pang of remorse for what might have been. But I know it never would have worked.
No, you and I, we were never meant to be. Now if only I could find the perfect sized-for-one recipe.
With a sad, remorseful sigh,
MM
Tags: commitment phobic, food, grocery shopping, guilt, leftovers, recipes, refrigerator
So true lol
I have finally caught up on your “current” letters. Someday I will attempt the archives.
Wonderful, fun, I feel like I’m there, I can just “hear” you, I’m so happy for you. Most of the time you make me laugh — great feeling. Other times — gag — the DMV!!
I look forward to more!
Auntie—Thank you! I aim to please. And yeah– people at the DMV are totally gross. Ew.
ConanTroutMan– Hi! Welcome. I guess I don’t know if I know you, but thanks for the response