Middle-Age Discovery ...
Every so often, though, I end up with a cold. Which happened sometime in the past year or so, and so my mom popped by with some orange juice, which sounded like a very good idea.
And ever since, I've been buying orange juice, to have a small glass each morning, along with my water and coffee.
It just makes sense, then, that when it's on sale, that I buy a back-up carton. The date is usually well into the future. I've never noticed how long it takes me to go through a carton but orange juice doesn't linger for long in my fridge.
The other day, at the store, I bought two cartons, as I was almost through the current carton and this way, when I opened one of the two, I'd still have a backup waiting. Also, I had a coupon, so I made my own little sale.
Yesterday, I polished off the current carton. And I nearly polished off my coffee goo. (I have very few vices. Coffee goo is one.) So this morning, I knew I needed to grab a new carton of orange juice and I knew I'd need to open my fresh coffee goo.
And it was as I was reaching for the goo that I spied ... the backup carton of orange juice that I'd bought a couple of weeks ago, stashed in the back of the fridge on the middle shelf.
Which means, if you're counting, I had three full cartons of orange juice in my fridge: two purchased the other day and the forgotten carton.
I had thought, when I was at the store, that the carton I knew was almost empty was the backup carton.
All of which is to say that I discovered this morning that I might share my father's genetic inability to look all the way to the back of a fridge.
I don't seem to suffer from that affliction when I'm at their house. But Mom, very smartly, buys freezer-on-the-bottom refrigerators. My freezer is on the top. Which means that the shelf in question in this post is well below eye level. And the older I get, the less inclined I am to stoop. Voluntarily, anyway. Here's hoping osteoporosis doesn't have other ideas.
Anyhoo, Mom, if you're reading this, I promise to do everything I can to fight this scourge. At the very least, the next time I go shopping, I'll do a little inventory. And bother to make a list.