Leftovers

I appreciate a sparsely populated refrigerator. When I open the door of my fridge (yes, we are on a nickname basis) I like to see without obstruction whatever is stored there: on a good day milk, orange juice, fruits (these days cut up pieces of cantaloupe and pineapple), and in season assortments of berries, apples, etc.; cheeses in the labeled cheese bin; and vegetables in the appropriately designated compartment. I also like to store on the refrigerator shelves containers of yoghurt, blocks of cream cheese, in the warmer weather a slab of butter; and in all seasons a jug of maple syrup. I maintain a rotating supply (on lazy susans, of course!) of items such as miso, peanut butter, sour cream and sometimes cottage cheese. These represent the basics that occupy the refrigerator in all weathers and seasons. On a good day when I open the door I can see it all at a glance.
            But I also occasionally am constrained to add to the shelves the leftovers from meals that I have prepared. I somewhat carelessly follow the recipes that declare the recipe should serve two to four, but somehow we don’t eat enough or the columnists eat more. Or perhaps they deceive. Whatever! At the end of our meal there still remains on the table or in the serving dishes or in the Dutch ovens or soup pots the meal we haven’t finished and that cannot at present be consumed nor (heavens no!) thrown away as waste. And so, the leftovers are packed away in an assortment of containers and placed in the refrigerator. In short time they take up too much space and begin to clutter the shelves. This situation is further exasperated when we entertain and enjoy guests for dinner because, again, though I do try to follow the recipe, no one eats as much as I had expected or they were supposed to, (or like a good Jewish host I had prepared more than could possibly be eaten by a small army in a single meal), and though I can at times successfully send food home with some of the invited, still there remain leftovers and that must now be stored. But in fact, I don’t particularly relish leftovers, and so I do what I can to eat all up at the original meal, but I am not a glutton and I do watch my weight and there almost always remains food leftover to be later consumed. Well, or not! I fill glass containers with the meal and place them in the refrigerator for another day. Sometimes that day never arrives. The shelves grow heavy and cluttered. But I like the process of cooking and leftovers don’t satisfy that urge. I cook a new meal afresh thereby increasing the predictable possibility of creating more leftovers, and so the glass containers continue to pile up and the refrigerator becomes jam-packed and to my mind messy. Older items have needed to be moved to the rear of the shelves to make way for the newer and containers are stacked higher, so now, when I open the refrigerator door I cannot readily see what is stored there and opening that door produces an anxious response. 
            I propose the construction of a refrigerator map that can be affixed to the door(s) of the fridge in lieu of the multiplying photos, notices, children’s art works, cutesy knick-knacks that now cover its doors. That map with moveable and interchangeable pieces will show what and where in the refrigerator each item has been placed. Then, when I open the doors this map will have revealed what reposes (and waits?) even at the rear of the unfortunately cluttered shelf and that I can now grab without randomly pushing and pulling the items all about to discover what I seek. I will never again lose anything to time and space in my refrigerator and will have easy access to even the most rear-stored comestible. The containers of leftovers will be discoverable even as they accumulate and though the refrigerator fills and overpopulates, and at least what is stored there will be expertly charted as were the maps of Lewis, Clark and Sacajawea on their exploratory journey west.
            This does not solve the problem of what actually to do with the leftovers I have not already given away nor disappointingly eaten. But at least these artifacts will be neither lost nor forgotten, and when sought can be easily found. The most serious fate to which these items might be consigned would be the compost heap. But the refrigerator shelves, though too filled, can assume a sense of order.
            A second possibility for the cluttered refrigerator problem is offered by my dear friend who suggests that perhaps an AI holographic application could serve as an alternative to the physical map.