Did you know that English muffins are perfect for making little pizzas? Just put some sauce on each half, top them with mozzarella, pop them into the toaster oven...and...voila! A perfect snack. We used to make these all the time at my house. Once, when my little brother was probably six or seven, he offered to make me one. My response was, "Of course!" because who would turn down someone's offer to make and serve them a snack?
He soon brought me my English muffin pizzas and I ate them up, thinking them to be quite delicious. Later on, I ventured into the kitchen, only to find that Patrick had left all of the English muffin pizza paraphernalia out. (Apparently, he had only mastered the art of making snacks, not cleaning up after them.) I started to clean up the mess, when I made a startling discovery. As I was about to put the lid back on the jar of pizza sauce, I noticed the layer of mold growing inside of it. An investigation of the expiration date confirmed my suspicions that this was, indeed, a very old jar of pizza sauce, probably scavenged from the depths of the refrigerator, and used by my brother to make a snack for me.
He came running into the kitchen.
"Is this the sauce that you used to make my pizzas!?!"
He innocently answered in the affirmative.
"So, you're telling me that I ate pizzas made with MOLDY sauce!?!? Oh my god, I'm going to die! Mooooommmmm!!!!"
Luckily, my Mom was the type who had the Poison Control Center on speed dial. She called there so frequently that I would not have been surprised if the people who answered the phones knew her on a personal basis. "Hello, Mrs. Dougherty, what did your kids eat today? Another tube of toothpaste?" (Which, by the way, although not recommended, won't kill you. Flouride-related deaths tend to be rather small in number.)
As I am still here to tell you the story, you may have guessed that the moldy pizza sauce didn't kill me, nor have I suffered any lasting effects other than disgust. And, I have yet, approximately eighteen years later, to let Patrick make me another snack. Although, come to think of it, I don't think he's offered.
I have a confession that I fear makes me sound rather silly: I hate to repeat outfits. I really don't like wearing the same configuration of clothing items over again. This is not to say that I never do it, because, of course, I do; I just try to avoid it and to make sure that a great length of time has passed between wearings.
I feel like if I repeat an outfit, people will immediately notice--Oh my, didn't she just wear that on Tuesday, December 14th??--and in some way judge me for it. This is completely irrational for many reasons, mainly that 1) I don't have that reaction to other people, 2) No one is paying that much attention to me, and 3) Even if they were, I shouldn't care anyway.
It's just one of those things that I know is completely ridiculous, yet is still there in the back of my head as I look in my closet each morning. Hmmm..is the polka dotted sweater with the black skirt a safe choice today? It's frightening, really.