Yesterday, we (husband, daughter and I) went to a u-pick berry farm and had a blast picking cascade berries (cross between a raspberry and a blackberry) and raspberries, filling our tupperware containers to the brim in the hot August sun. We returned home with beautifully stained fingers and the realization that we would need to freeze a boatload of these delicious little gems. After opening the fridge freezer, I realized I'd have to open the little chest freezer in the laundry room for the first time in, uh, a long time. Peering into the icy depths, I discovered that we had a lot of soups and stews that were no longer edible, unless we were all having a hankering for freezer burn.
"Why didn't we eat any of this stuff? And how old is it?" I wondered, pulling out container after container of... something and something else. I peered warily at the label and remembered why we didn't eat any of this stuff. It's because my husband, whom we shall call Joe (this is not his name), had himself a comedy party with my label maker when I asked him to help. I had to throw away:
1. Five containers of "Shit Salad 1924"
2. Three containers of "Leftover Boots 9998"
3. Five containers of "Stuff That Rhymes with Magoo" -undated
4. Two big containers of something he called, "Flibberdy Gibbets"
The sad part about Joe's idiotic labeling system, apart from the gross amount of food waste, is that I really, really should have seen it coming. Two and a half years ago, when we moved the house we're currently in, Joe helped me pack up a few things. When it came to putting the boxes in their appropriate rooms for unpacking, we had no idea where to put the ones he had labeled, because "Crap In a Box" tells me nothing helpful, nor does, "Whiggidy WOO!".
I've learned my lesson now. Three lessons, actually. 1. Don't ask Joe for help if the job allows any sort of creative expression. 2. We don't really need a chest freezer and it's wasting a bunch of electricity and space. 3. Maybe don't make so many leftovers.
Bwahahahahaha! I like labeling things strangely. When we moved to our house, I had a complex labeling system that gave each room a letter, plus the number of the box in that room. Well...except for the boxes I labeled Random Crap and Shit We Should Throw Away. On one box, I even drew an angry stick figure yelling, "SCREW THIS SHIT!"
ReplyDeleteIf ever I had to match a person to the phrase: "Flibberdy Gibbets", it would be "Joe". Also, I laughed out loud at Whiggidy Woo, which thoroughly through of the hubby, who was talking as I was reading...
ReplyDeleteThat's hilarious!
ReplyDelete