Clutter in the Fridge

Mark is feeling much better lately, which means he is cooking. Which means I feel fat. Don't' get me wrong, I love it when he cooks and hate it when I cook. He is the Michael Jordan of cooking, while I am the worst player on the Washington Generals. When I cook, the refrigerator looks like a wasteland, with sparsely used vegetables in the front, and rotting vegetables near the back. I tend to not cook vegetables. I don't really understand them that much, like how do you make them taste good? It's a mystery. Anyway, this week Mark has made lasagna, chicken and rice, sloppy Joes, and ribs. And he has made a shit load of all that. So much so that the fridge is jam packed with leftovers. Seriously, I cannot eat that stuff fast enough. No sooner am I digging into last night's lasagna when the chicken and rice is thrust upon me. So now I have  two leftover dishes to work on, when ribs appear. If I ate everything Mark cooked, everything stuffed into that refrigerator, I would not be able to leave the house. I'd weigh six hundred pounds. So I am not hoping Mark gets sick again and stops cooking. That would be evil. Besides, then I'd have to be Nurse Alan again, and I hate that even more. No, what I am hoping is that some of you drop in at dinner time and help me clean out the refrigerator.