Just because I eat all the leftovers, doesn’t mean I like leftovers! Just because I eat old bread doesn’t mean I don’t want a soft, fluffy slice from that fresh loaf. I have been forced into this position against my will! Today, I say, “No more!” It’s time for this man to take a stand.
Here’s the deal. Yesterday, at the Tiefenthaler household, when the kids were fast asleep, I lost my mind. I started a completely petty argument, but I’M IN THE RIGHT! I WANT JUSTICE!
It all started when I was a total gentleman and went out and did some grocery shopping. On the list, that my wife wrote for me to follow, was the word, “bread.” Since was the start of a school week, I bought two fresh loaves of Country Hearth 100% Whole Wheat Bread. When I got home and stocked the cabinets with the bounty I brought back from the grocery store, I found two more bags of bread, and each one had about 10 slices left. They both are still well within the “use by this date” on the package. One said February 20th, and the other said February 22nd.
Now, my wife, bless her heart, loves only the softest and freshest of breads. I knew that if she found these new loaves of bread, she would use them, and force me into eating the older stuff, or just let it get moldy and toss it in the garbage. I did the only logical thing. I purposely pushed the bread to the back of the cabinet, and put the older bread right in front.
To my dismay, when my wife was making sandwiches for the kids’ lunches, she bypassed the older bread. She was making the kids sandwiches with the new, fresh bread.
“What are you doing!?” I screamed. “There’s two other loaves of perfectly good bread in the cabinet. Stop making those sandwiches with the new bread! That’s so wasteful!”
She argued that this bread tastes better, and that I left the bread open, so it was harder than it should be. Point taken. I probably did leave the bread open, but I didn’t relent.
“So what! Of course the new bread is softer. I don’t care. The kids, and you, can eat a sandwich with this bread, which is still perfectly fine.”
Then she said the thing that really set me off. “But you like toast. You can use the old bread for toast.”
I lost it. I don’t remember my exact words, but here’s my argument.
1. I don’t like toast that much. I just eat the old bread so I don’t waste it. Toasting the old bread is the only way it tastes good after it gets too old. I’m saving us money!
2. Maybe if we actually finished a loaf of bread before opening a new one, we could all enjoy fresh bread instead of everyone except me!
3. We are passing on this “fresh bread” weakness to our children. Honestly! You know, my wife will reach at least three slices deep for her piece of bread. The crusty one on the end isn’t acceptable, but neither are the two after that? Really? What is this? The Princess and the Pea?
4. This soft fresh bread thing is an epidemic. She’s passing down her knowledge of nice things way to early to our children. My kids know about thread count. That’s so wrong. When I was a kid, my sheets were probably made of sand paper, and I didn’t know any different. I slept like a rock on the sandy sandpaper sheets. However, my children will touch some sheets and be like, “Ewww. This isn’t soft. The thread count is probably under 400.”
5. I’m the only one who eats left overs. I don’t really like them, but everyone else is too good to eat yesterday’s spaghetti. Maybe I don’t want to eat the spaghetti again either. Maybe I want today’s hot and fresh meal. Maybe I want a slice of fresh bread. Maybe the man of the house doesn’t want to be the garbage man. I’m not the garbage man by choice!
Alright. That’s enough. I sound like such a baby, crying and whining for hours on end. I’ll just be a man and eat some toast.