I heard something rather disturbing from Greg the other day. I had recently scrubbed the fridge (not the freezer, that would require another full day). Just when things were sparkling, I had amalgamated seven mustards and shook my head with each squeeze wondering why I assume we eat more mustard than any other family on the planet. Then I realized, I don’t even cook with mustard and we eat hamburgers about four times a summer. I suspect there are some underlying mustard issues I’m going to have to deal with at a later date. I know my friend once squirted mustard on my shirt at a New Year’s party. Do I keep buying it as a reminder to keep it (or her) within my sights at all times? Is it a statement about stains, the kind that never come out, like the slow moving condiment and if my fridge continues to look overstocked with bottles, I’ll never truly be happy?

Greg: I took the roast out of the fridge that we were thawing to get it ready to bbq tonight. Some of the blood leaked out into the fridge. I think I got most of it.

I think I got most of it.

I think that’s what he said but I got a little dizzy and it sounded more like….

Greg: There’s a bunch of cow blood oozing down the shelves of the fridge and into the crisper drawers and I’m pretty sure some dripped into the mustard.