I don’t finish things. Food things. I mean, I do finish
them...eventually. But, not right away. Nope. I am that person. You know, the one that leaves half a scoop of ice
cream in the carton or a teeny, tiny spoonful of peanut butter in the jar or
crumbs at the bottom of the chip bag. My family could certainly attest to this
fact and how much it drives them nuts endears them to me. We all have
our quirks, after all.
I think it’s a psyche thing. Like, if I sit down with a pint
of Ben & Jerry’s and really go to town, which, let’s be honest, is a
frequent occurrence, and leave a little bit in the carton, I’m ok, it’s ok. I
didn’t eat the whole thing. I have no
reason to be guilty. None. No, there’s a paper thin layer on the bottom of the
bucket and it’s totally enough for someone else to enjoy, right? Of course!
Guilt trip averted.
I know I’m not alone here.