A Glass Half Empty

There is something sinister that J-Fed does that I’ve been blocking out all of these years. Subconsciously, I’m well aware of the fact that he does it. But consciously, I refuse to admit that it happens. It’s as if acknowledging this habit will cause me to look inside myself and say “What the &^*( is wrong with him and what’s wrong with me for not saying something?”

Now, before you start worrying, it’s nothing perverse and nothing illegal. But in my book, it should be considered both perverse and illegal. To me, it’s the heighth of all laziness. Let me explain…

In our house, we have two refrigerators – one in the kitchen, and one in J-Fed’s temple, AKA the garage. I try not to open the fridge in the garage too often because I’ll find these unwelcome surprises here and there – a two-week old Publix sub left over from his day at the track, a half eaten Snickers still in the wrapper, etc. Then there’s the old booby trap that he sets for me – a half full soda can that spills everywhere the instant I open the door. I take his name in vain as I’m left scrubbing up sticky cola for the next 20 minutes.

However, none of these things gets to me like “the glass.” At first I thought it was a joke. Then I told myself it must be some sort of mistake. However, after keeping surveillance for a month or so, I sadly realized this was a deliberate act committed by the Fedster.

Every night, J-Fed would take a glass of Crystal Light out to the garage to enjoy post-Frap. I would watch him go out with the drink, but never thought much about the fact that he would come back in empty handed. I decided to further investigate.

The first night I noticed, he had left a glass that was ¼ full of tea on the top shelf of the fridge. Like a programmed machine, I brought the glass in and never said a word. A couple of nights later, another glass was in the same place, but with only a sip remaining. Once again, I removed the glass and said nothing. Maybe he was storing it in the event of a sudden drought, I thought to myself. Perhaps he kept it there when he became parched after a long night of eBaying. I wondered if I’d ever unravel the mystery of the glass in J-Fed’s fridge. I decided to wait it out.

A few more days passed and I opened the fridge to see what it held in store. There sat an empty glass with not a drop of liquid in it. Nothing. Nada. Nunca. Stunned, I took the glass inside, only to find it replaced by another glass the next night.

That’s when it hit me. J-Fed, in his own special way, had found just another way for me to be his own personal servant. Instead of carrying the glass into the house and placing into the sink, he simply placed the empty glass in the fridge and assumed that some sort of dish fairy removed it night after night. To this day, I’ve never said a word about the empty glass. I wouldn’t want to break J-Fed’s heart by telling him that the dish fairy doesn’t exist.

But it was just further proof that in the game of J-Fed and Kiki, J-Fed would always come in first.