Practically empty things

Ice cream cartons, gallons of milk, bread, orange juice and doughnut holes. These are the things that my older brother, Colin, likes to leave practically empty.

We had this rule growing up that whoever finished the gallon of milk upstairs, had to go down into the basement to get the next one from the extra fridge we had. My family goes through milk faster than a snow cone melting in Hell. When all five of us kids are home, my dad has to buy about five gallons of milk every week.

To get out of the “getting the next gallon” task, Colin would pour as much milk as he could but still leave “enough” (not even half a glass) for the next person. He’s the person in our family who fills his glass all the way to the top, and still be sure to leave just enough in there so he doesn’t have to go get the next gallon. How obnoxious.

This is something he does constantly. On the rare occasions we buy doughnut holes for the morning, after everyone has a couple, he’ll help himself to the rest… basically. He’ll leave one doughnut hole. ONE. There are like 35 in a box, and he leaves one and claims he was leaving it for someone who wanted it.


Why not leave three or four?

I’ve asked him this multiple times, and he just laughs it off. Doughnut holes are a serious matter, Colin. Especially when it involves the powdered sugar ones.

I have a theory he only leaves one doughnut because he wants to get as many as possible into his stomach and still try to justify eating 18 of them by being kind enough to leave one for someone else.

Granted, I know I am lucky to have the luxury of being able to afford and eat doughnut holes and ice cream and milk, but my brother has obnoxious habits.

I love him to death, but boy, I feel like smacking him when he leaves a drop of orange juice or a single doughnut. I would like to say that him being almost 24 means that he has grown out of these childish ways, alas, I cannot.

Next time you leave a practically empty anything, Colin, I might have to throw it at your head. Love ya.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s