When you have children, you accumulate a million little plastic containers. They are annoyingly small and unstackable. There are a huge number of them, but you can never find one because they're all in the fridge.
What happens is, there's a couple of spoonfuls of left-over mash and seven peas, and where you would have thrown them out in the past, you now go 'oh, the kids might be able to have that some time'. Sounds wise and thrifty, but firstly, the kids didn't want the mash and peas the first time round. And secondly, no, you're never going to get around to using them.
Instead, they pile up in the fridge. A container of 4 grams of tuna. A container of a bit of spag bol. A container with two mandarin segments. You become blind to them when you open the fridge.
Chapter skip to a month later where it's now my job to make some room in the fridge. I hate this job almost as much as separating the meat after a shopping trip. I remove about 27 midget containers of unidentified substance in a blanket of mould, and have to try and empty this filth and wash the containers.
Sometimes if no ones' looking I skip the middle man and just throw out the whole container. They're like rabbits anyway, and need to be culled from time to time.
It's all a bit of a lose-lose situation though, because after one of these big clean-outs yesterday, I threw out the left-overs after dinner, thinking 'nope, not going down that turgid path again'. But of course I then just felt guilty. Somebody somewhere would have loved that three spoonfuls of mash. I am an evil wasteful Westerner adding to the worlds' poverty.
What's a guy to do?