I have this love/hate relationship with leftovers in the fridge.  I sometimes like taking left overs for lunch the next day.  But sometimes I haven’t even liked it the first time; why would i want it for a second time? 

I think the worst part about leftovers is finding them in the back of the fridge weeks later.  By that time they’ve turned a funky green colour and have grown hair.  I don’t even want to keep the plastic container they’ve been stored in for ‘eternity’ because i’m afraid it will stink of the “science project” forever.

My family is great at keeping leftovers.  They’ll take them off the serving plate from supper, grab a little container and put them in the fridge……..never to look at them, again.  I’m pretty sure I remember my dad commenting on leftovers when we all lived at home, too.  Something to the effect that he was the only one that ever ate them.  I kinda know how he feels……

In my quest to understand better the desire to keep extra food which may or may not get eaten, I pondered a thought while i cleaned out my fridge the other day.  I decided  that saving leftovers is a sign of hope.  A sign that another day will dawn, you’ll feel the need to eat and there WILL be something TO eat if you want it.

As I finish this blog up, I’m eating left over chicken stew – for the 2nd time.  I think i’ll skip the rest of it and when I get home i’ll throw the rest of it that’s left out……..  That stuff’s given me enough hope for one month……


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