”
What are you doing?
”
my husband asked me.
”
Cleaning out the refrigerator,
”
I replied.
“What are you doing?” my husband asked me.
“Cleaning out the refrigerator,” I replied.
“Why now?” he asked. “We’re not moving.”
“Our daughter complained that there was nothing to eat in the house, so I’m determined to prove her wrong,” I said. “We have plenty of food in the house. First, I have to throw out this stir-fry pork dish.”
“Why? I ate it for lunch yesterday. I loved the asparagus in it,” my husband said.
“What asparagus? I didn’t add any asparagus.”
“Yes, you did. That green hard stuff,” he said.
“I don’t know what you ate that was green, but it definitely wasn’t asparagus,” I replied.
“Maybe that’s why I’m not feeling well now.”
“Could be. You don’t look so good,” I said. “How unfortunate. I’ll put the doctor’s phone number on the fridge. You might want to give him a call.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve got to chuck this jar of pickles,” I said.
“Why? We like pickles.”
“Yeah, but the last time I ate these particular pickles I was pregnant.”
“That was more than 12 years ago,” my husband said.
“I know. Aren’t you happy I haven’t craved one since?” I asked. “Here, move over. It’ll go faster if we throw them down the disposal together.”
“Ow! Be careful,” he said. “Whatever’s in that dish just broke my toe when it fell on my foot. What is it?”
“It’s my meatloaf, which hardened over time,” I said.
“Hardened? It’s like a brick, heavy enough to break a toe.”
“You could mention it to the doctor when you call him for your stomach.”
“I hope he can see me today,” my husband said.
“Move out of the way. You don’t want this to drop on your broken toe.”
“That’s disgusting. What is it?”
“It’s wilted lettuce that’s leaking all over,” I replied.
“We had lettuce in the fridge? How come I never saw it?”
“It was in the vegetable drawer, and you don’t look there,” I answered. “I brought it a while back when we pledged to eat healthy. I planned to make a salad.”
“What happened? Why didn’t you?”
“We went to Costco and bought a box of 2,500 ice cream sandwiches instead,” I said.
“Oh, those were good. Do we have any left?”
“Keep your hands off. The last one is mine,” I said. “Next time we go to Costco, we’ll buy two boxes.”
“Why are you pouring that salad dressing down the drain?”
“It expired more than two years ago – probably the last time we had a salad,” I said. “Here, pitch this hot fudge sauce for me.”
“Why?” he asked.
“It expired more than five years ago, before we moved to North Carolina,” I replied.
“So, that means you packed and transported expired food items. Any particular reason why?”
“We were in a hurry,” I said. “You’ve eaten it over the years and never gotten sick from it?”
“Not any sicker than when I ate the pork with what I thought was asparagus,” he said.
“Who are you calling? The doctor to make an appointment for my foot?”
“Forget your foot,” I said. “I’m calling a restaurant to make dinner reservations for tonight. Our daughter was right – there’s nothing to eat in this house.”
Cindy Argiento is a free-lance columnist who lives in North Carolina with her family. Her column appears weekly in the Gilroy Dispatch and Hollister Free Lance. She may be contacted at ca*******@*ol.com.
