Milkathon

When I opened my refrigerator after returning from vacation, my first thought was that I had gone through a time warp and ended up back in elementary school. Then I wondered if my parents, who had stayed at my house, had become closet milkaholics. The kind of milkaholics who like to drink from tiny containers.

Then I remembered Grandpa. He simply cannot bear to see a single food item go to waste. He used to load me up with bananas that were, "perfect for banana bread," which is a nice way of putting it. He sometimes handed me a sack of apples that needed to be eaten, "probably before tomorrow would be best." One time he sent me home with no less than thirty plums.

Since he has moved into his retirement home he has a serious problem. There is so much food being served, he can't keep up. He is not hungry enough to consume it all, so he takes it to his room and sends it home with his visitors. Every time I visit him I leave with a plastic bag full of left over food, "for the dog." Not kidding.

Now it is milk. He gets a carton of it for each meal, but doesn't always drink it. He takes it to his room, places it in his refrigerator, and then worries about it. Who will drink the milk? Will it go bad before someone drinks it? Who should the milk go to? How soon will someone take this milk?

So, that is how I ended up with a refrigerator filled with small cartons of milk. Most of it expired. Got to love Grandpa!