Letting Go

In the last decade or so that I've been "on my own" in the world, I have lugged around the guilt that I feel each time I have to toss leftovers (or in some cases never used) food items that have gone bad.

I'm so sorry:

Half used cans of tomato paste. It's not my fault that every recipe only requires a tablespoon or two of you.

A few months ago an Epicurious recipe told me that some Indian potato and rice dish would yield four servings. Um, yeah, maybe they meant servings for FOUR SEPARATE FAMILIES because those leftovers took up more than half the fridge space. I tried valiantly to get through it all - even making a fritatta - but, alas I wasn't really wild about the meal on its first appearance.

More containers of milk than I can remember, from back in the day when I drank the mucus-inducing junk.

Various and sundry other items which I cannot recall yet still feel guilty about discarding.

I would like to say that the confessional helped me let go of some of this guilt, but there's just another batch in refrigerator creating moldly guilt as we speak.