Behold the gently used piece of tinfoil.
"Gently used" refers to bits of tinfoil (and yes, while at a party last weekend, I was looking for a bit of tinfoil to cover a piece of cake to take home to the Goat and, when I inquired, "do you have a piece of tinfoil?"I was met with the guffaws of at least one guest who informed me that tinfoil hadn't been made from tin in decades, to which I responded that I knew tinfoil is actually aluminum foil, but I call it tinfoil anyway and then I went on to search the drawer next to the icebox before retrieving my pocketbook, which was on the davenport, and setting out for home) that are used, but not used to capacity. Most people would simply throw such an item away, but I do not allow a gently used piece of tinfoil to go gentle into that goodnight.
The tinfoil pictured herein was initially used to cover a rectangular container onto which a grater fits. Having used the grater to grate cheddar cheese (for addition to mashed potatoes), and having intentionally grated extra (for my daughter to sprinkle on top of her cheddar mashed potatoes despite the cheese already in the potato dish), but having grated even more than she prefers, some grated cheddar remained in the container, which I duly covered with a piece of tinfoil.
Since the container is fairly deep, the tinfoil did not contact the leftover cheese. Hence, when I removed it to use the cheese in the composition of a grilled ham and cheddar sandwich a day or two later, I examined the foil, deemed it reusable, and set it aside.
The rest of the story has yet to play out, but is obvious enough. This piece of tinfoil will hang around for a day or two, irritating the hell out of me because, although it is obviously not a piece of trash, it looks like a piece of trash on the counter. Eventually, I'll get fed up with the situation and violently crumple the foil into a ball while muttering to myself, JeSUS enough already, and toss it into the trash.
The sad inevitable truth will unfold in the following several minutes, or maybe an hour. Either the Goat will wander in and ask for a piece of tinfoil to scrub the grill (As is abundantly apparent, I've got plenty of problems of my own. Ask him if you want details on how to use tinfoil to scrub your grill), or a leftover chicken leg will be relieved of its meat rendering it ready for discard, or some other use for a gently used piece of tinfoil will present itself. (I should duly note that, although I will happily wrap a gnawed chicken bone in a gently used piece of tinfoil and then discard it, I would never use a new piece of tinfoil for this purpose.) I wish things were different, but they are not. Life is this way and it will always be this way.
Thusly, I succumb.
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