A Bin for the Rest
The wife was out, so it was a chippy tea. A small fish and chips turned out to be plenty, and I actually left some chips. That's not like me.
Wife out for the evening, so I was fending for myself. Chippy tea it was.
I haven’t had chip shop chips in ages. Ordered a small fish and chips, mainly out of habit — a medium would’ve fed two people, or one of me a few months back. Turns out small was plenty. It was delicious — and Rosie and Dexter each got a sausage out of the arrangement, which I think they considered fair.
And then I did something that isn’t like me at all. I left some of the chips.
Not because I was counting anything or telling myself I shouldn’t. I’d enjoyed the meal, I’d had enough, and the rest just weren’t worth eating. Growing up with a don’t-waste-food mentality, that’s new. The food was still great. I just didn’t need any more of it.
I knew myself well enough not to leave them on the side, though. Cold chips wandering past later would absolutely have reopened negotiations. So they went straight in the kitchen bin.
I didn’t need to finish the portion to feel like I’d had my money’s worth. For someone who’d have cleared that medium portion without a second thought once, that’s its own kind of progress.