Science projects

While whisking kitchen counter implements into their respective places I attempted to avoid a plastic container holding yellow goo covered by pink, algae-ish topping. Tim had pulled it from the depths of the refrigerator. I shuddered. Not now. Can't take it quite yet.

My dear hubby whom I love more as years pass disagrees with me on the handling of ancient perishables. He thinks you ought to reach immediately for remains of bread fuzzy-sprouted and move that foil-wrapped square of blueing cream cheese straight away to the doggy dish. (No! I tell him; don't give Brindy the old cheese! So what if she likes it?!)

I know the way of these things. I'm aware of science and aging food processes. Those black beans lurking behind the ketchup--we won't attempt to eat any more of them, and forget that batch of brown rice beside the croutons, but I'll handle it. Give me time. Let me get good and ready, pull on rubber gloves, take four or five deep breaths. Then I will charge forth and attack all alien life forms podding beyond my fresh avocados. Just leave them alone for now.

Once, because Tim was home on vacation when we had company, and he'd already chopped wood, mowed the lawn, and rearranged the garage, he decided to bring to light some aging foodstuffs and mention to our visitors what interesting tidbits he was finding, as he dumped containers into the sink.

He learned never to do that again.