This week’s Monday Moans is brought to you by empty containers. We survive so much during our week, as parents, that you would think that something as minor as empty containers shouldn’t merit an entire blog post. Well, you are clearly more mentally stable than I am, to overlook this clear and present show of disrespect.
Before leaving for the grocery store, I dutifully check the fridge, freezer and pantry for the staples that my family just can’t live without – or better yet, for those things that I don’t want to live with my family that would have to live without. Great…things are looking good. I won’t need much for this trip.
Anyway, fast forward passed grocery shopping, through the five trips up two flights of stairs and losing all feeling in my wrists…cause I mistakenly think I can carry that one extra bag…or ten. Now, my blood pressure is surely through the roof, just in time to deal with my kids prowling through the bags to grab whatever they can’t wait 10 minutes for. I start yelling and they start scattering, like rats on a ship.
Now comes the time for the beginning stages of my sub-polar meltdown. It begins with opening the freezer to move a box of Popsicles to the side to make room. Wait…this box is empty. And.Its.In.The.Freezer. Toss the box in the general direction of the trashcan and try to carry on.
Fridge – you are up. I move the jug of juice towards the back of the fridge and two 2-liters fall over. Hmmm…how odd. Oh, they fell over because they are empty. And.In.The.Fridge. The little shits. You begin to check other containers, just in the name of research. Both of the ketchup and ranch dressing bottles are empty. Fanfreakintastic. It’s getting a tad bit harder to breathe.
Now comes my favorite – the Pantry. By this point, I am on a mission to find more evidence to add to my tirade. I pull out an empty cereal box, an empty jar of peanut butter and an empty box of pop tarts. Awesome. Oh, and I remove the jug of juice and return it to the fridge.
What is wrong with them? Do they need to be tested? Surely, this is a warning sign that they aren’t running on all 8 cylinders!
Now a three-foot semi-circle around my trashcan is littered with crappy, Ingles bags and five empty containers and then there are the three that I threw into the next room during my fit. I stomp over to the cabinet under my sink to jerk out a trash bag. Guess What? No, really guess. Did you guess?? That is right…empty box. NO TRASH BAGS. Juuuust….the…box.
There is one container that isn’t empty and so I will have my glass of wine and mentally flip them off as I enjoy a dry salad.
Guess what, boys? I am making french fries tonight!