Baby boy doesn’t eat leftovers

That’s a long-standing joke — something my son said when he was about six. At the time, he felt a bit sick of the thing we’d already had the night before. I’m sure many of us feel the same sometimes.

Well, I’m actually eating leftovers right now, as I write this post. I’ll admit it’s not overly appealing to do so. It’s compelling to make something else — maybe a nice fresh salad.

But I’m not going to make something else; I’m going to eat this leftover lentil soup and broccoli egg fried rice. It seems like the frugal option — waste less, spend less.

However, I just realized I am more interesting in writing about the leftovers than eating them. This is telling, isn’t it? At this rate, I’ll have to re-zap these leftovers in the microwave again.

But I’ll just say “Yum! I’m so lucky!” because I really am. I’m very fortunate and privileged to have these leftovers, not to mention this nice home, and its fridge I have to clean (after I’m done reheating and then eating some of the leftovers I’ve been dealing with).

So I’m going to use what I already have — and be thankful for it. (Of course, it would be ironic, and highly bloggable, if I got food poisoning from it!)