I wonder how neglect of certain items in our lives began?

I look in my closet sometimes and see a pair of shoes that are sort of squished back in the corner. I have two rakes and always pick the one that is sturdier and has a wider swath. There is a preferred place to sit on the couch and also a preferred chair in almost every room. Certain coffee cups in the cabinet are never touched, yet the same couple are used on a rotating basis.

I could go on and on.  The neglected items hang around and rarely get any attention.

When I was getting ready to make a sandwich the other day, I got all the stuff out and even made a glass of tea or something.  I searched for a piece of fruit to cut up, because I thought maybe the fruit would make up for the fact I’m trying to cut down on bread intake.

I would have rather had potato chips, but who wouldn’t?

You would think I would have checked the bread basket first, but I didn’t.  As I walked over to said basket, I noticed there was an alarming flatness to the loaf package. Upon further investigation, I found there were two forlorn heels left in the sad, deflated plastic bread bag.

One of the heels was a pitiful specimen while the other looked as though it was trying to beef itself up and be counted in as a regular slice.

In any case, I had “my mouth set” for a true-blue sandwich, and I was going to have bread. I would have settled for a stray hamburger bun or even a sleeve of crackers, but those were also absent.

The heels were my only option.

I was in a particularly optimistic mood. I decided to toast those poor little things. I found some lettuce and mayo and stacked that sandwich good. I cut it in half and made a nice little presentation on a saucer from the cabinet. My fruit was cut up and looked festive.

I sat down to convince myself that this was an actual sandwich, even with that poor little “half heel.”

Guess what happened?  

I enjoyed that sandwich down to the last crumb and wished I had been given the opportunity to toast a couple more sad little heels.  

The heels had come through.  

I can’t tell you the number of times I have said we were out of bread when there were only two heels left in the package. I’m almost certain we’ve left many heels in there long enough for them to be considered goners, and they’ve been pitched. Our grandparents and anyone else who has ever faced any hardship would be appalled by such actions.

I enjoyed that sandwich so much that I started becoming quite philosophical. I mean, how often do we neglect the heels? How often do we search for something better instead of looking at what we have in front of us and using things to their full potential? How many times do we pass over the “scrubs” on the team or neglect to appreciate the alternates?

I would say often. What do you think?

Now, there are plenty of people out there saying things like “Oh no, I ALWAYS eat the heel.  In fact, I try to be the one who gets the two heels first when we have a loaf of bread.”  You know who I’m talking about – people who like to irritate us with their different way of thinking.  

Whatever.

As with many columns of this nature, I am once again ending this one so that I can go make myself something to eat.

I’m thinking of buttered toast.

And I won’t lie. I’m going to look for two robust slices of bread.

I’m not ashamed.