Leftovers

I wish I could tell you that I cook a nice dinner for Jeff and me every night.*    The truth, however, is that I usually cook once or twice a week, and then we eat some combination of leftovers + frozen/canned items the rest of the week.

Fact. I LOVE leftovers. 

Fact. I think most things - i.e. casseroles, spaghetti sauce, pizza - are even BETTER the second time around. 

Fact. I HATE having lots of "old" food in my refridgerator. (Exhibit A: The Indian Curry leftovers from last week... I had good intentions of fixing these for dinner, but then the stomach bug hit our house.  I won't go into details... but the Indian food just didn't seem so appetizing.)

Fact. I like sharing. I am very kind.

Fact. Jeff rarely gets to eat any of our leftovers because...

1. 
   
   I eat them for breakfast (even if they are clearly NOT breakfast foods... I probably dreamed about them all night. There is really nothing like cold enchiladas and a cup of coffee.)
   
   
   
2. 
   
   I eat them for an afternoon snack before he gets home from work. (And yes, 9 times out of 10, I still eat a regular sized dinner two hours later and PRAY that Jeff "forgot" about the leftovers.)
   
   
   
3. 
   
   I give them to my friends who can't cook for themselves --- usually because of laziness, rarely because of some actual physically disabling condition.
   
   
   
4. 
   
   I give them to my very old grandparents - who might go without a meal if I don't show up with two day old chili.
   
   
   

I didn't really realize that this was bothering Jeff, until last night when he expressed great disdain over these facts.  As I heated up leftovers of all sorts after our Bible study for a kitchen full of people, Jeff literally began panicking because the broccoli-chicken casserole was missing.  An outsider might have thought he had lost something of value like a wallet, family heirloom, or small child.  Who knew a casserole could evoke such emotions?  Apparently, he has had quite enough of my grandparents taking his well-deserved leftovers.

Fact. Jeff could stand to gain a few pounds. (Not that he isn't incredibly HOT already!)
Fact. He is perfectly content with taking those pounds from my poor frail Granny and Poppy.

*In this context, "me" is appropriate, because it comes in the predicate of the sentence. It seems that our education system has made most of us completely avoid the word "me" for fear of being corrected. I'd like to bring it back. That is all.