Beware of What's Inside That Tupperware
The other day, I was digging around in our refrigerator with one goal and one goal only: Find the leftover gyro. The day before, we’d gone to our favorite food truck where we almost always take advantage of his “Buy 3, Get 1 Free” special on gyros. I recalled that I also bought my wife Evi a Greek salad. While my brain is always a little foggy about whatever happens in life more than five minutes prior—you trying having two daughters, five and under—simple logic told me we should have one gyro left.
According to my math, Evi ate her salad, I ate my gyro, Sasha and Norah split a gyro, and Evi eventually ate a second gyro for dinner. That’s only three gyros. So where was this extra gyro?!? Did some asshole swipe my God-given, mine-by-divine-right gyro?
While digging around, I had a flashback to college. I attended the University of South Florida in Tampa, where I shared a condo with my near life-long friend Eddie. We decided early on that we weren't going to divide the refrigerator into sides or keep track of whose food's whose or anything stupid like that. Our rule was, "If it's food and in the fridge, it's fair game". That meant, if my then-girlfriend Lauren bought a footlong sub and only ate half for lunch and saved the rest in our fridge for when she was coming by after class, she'd have better odds of seeing the Lord Jesus Christ come back to Earth in a purple 1969 Corvette Stingray than ever seeing the second half of her BMT again. Putting food into our fridge was like throwing an animal carcass into a piranha-infested pond.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to I Already Spent the $200 to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.