Death By Gretchen's Burritos

This is going to be a short post. But I just want it on record, in case someone finds me sprawled out on my kitchen floor, dead.

It will be a sad and solemn scene. I will be laying there on my back, all dead and my limbs splayed across the linoleum that I have always hated. My head will be about where those purple paint drops that I have not been able to remove since we moved in are. The dishwasher door will be gaping open. There will be a storage container lid near me on the left side of my stiff, cold corpse just beyond my curling, gnarled fingers. On the other side of my body you will find a used, plastic container with remnants of a great leftover meal clinging to the sides. My lips will be parted slightly with my front teeth touching, frozen on the last word they spoke: it. As in, "I knew it!"

Question the hub. Question him hard.  Make absolutely certain he did not do it on purpose just to be rid of me.

I hear you all saying, "What?"

Well, here it is.

I make larger meals than we can eat every night so that the hub can take leftovers for lunch. He likes this arrangement a lot. In fact, last Thursday he actually texted me when he ate it. "Yum. Gretchen burritos for lunch." That is what he said.

Well, he worked from home on Friday and then was home through the weekend. This morning, a Monday, he got out a new container of fresh leftovers from the fridge (chicken pot pi - from pi day which we celebrated on Saturday with the whole family) for lunch and put it into his back pack. At the same time, he removed the empty, but unwashed, sealed container from Thursday's lunch and put it on the counter.

When I open it to put it in the dishwasher I will die. The fumes that are trapped in there are noxious. It is beginning to bulge a little. Just want you to know. I love you all.

Goodbye, cruel world.