This morning was no different from mornings in general. I woke up…decided a small amount of sleep wouldn’t hurt, and when I finally decided to rise I decided to stumble my way into the kitchen to make coffee.
When I reached in to grab the creamer, a sense of dread washed over me. I knew, the game was afoot.
I’d detected an odor, not an overwhelming reeking stench, but something was off…not quite right.
I call it a “Game” because that’s the only way to trick myself into that unfortunate task of what must be done. Find the offender, and kick it out.
I know some people who deal with this often. They tuck food into the nooks, crannies, and hallows of their fridge and it’s never seen again until it has morphed into some terrible Dr. Hyde version of itself. I don’t often have to deal with this. The items I pick up at the store don’t last long. (likely because I go with an intended use in mind, and I frequent the store often.) But it does happen. There are times I cannot remember why I purchased something, or (more often the case) my own life gets in the way. I don’t have a large brood to feed and the offers of ‘Lets grab dinner!’ and opportunities to give me a fuller social life can often lead to me making my fridge bare for fear of something gone bad.
Everyone faces this at sometime or another. It’s never pleasant. For me personally is there the odorous, obvious problem, it is accompanied by the sense of dread of the money gone with it. The worth of the item no longer useable. The feeling of being wasteful and careless.
It is what it is. You play the game and move on, vowing to be smarter the next time…until that smell hits .