Our youngest son, Ryan, spent the night with us last night. He was in the area on a business trip, and was able to visit. I made his favorite dinner, meatloaf, potatoes and carrots, corn and coleslaw, with brownies and ice cream for dessert, and we laughed and talked and the years melted away and he was a young boy again. Well, not quite, because Lindsay and Abby crept into his conversation constantly. It was so nice to have him for a visit, yet it was odd, because the rest of his family wasn’t with him and I missed them.
But that’s not my story. Ryan is a pharmacist, so he regularly goes through my medicine cabinet, checking all the bottles, throwing away anything that is either expired, or going to be expiring, he’s passionate about it. And he’s also passionate about food, so he’s constantly checking my refrigerator for expired dates, throwing away food that is past it’s prime, because neither hubby or I are diligent about whether or not the salad dressing expired last week, last month, or heaven forbid last year.
So this morning, after he bribed me to iron his shirt, reminding me of what a good job his grandma always did, he announced that he needed some static guard for his pants, and asked if I had any. “Of course I have some, it’s in the cupboard in the utility room,” I told him. So he retrieves the can and starts laughing, practically doubling over he’s laughing so hard. “Look at this label,” he says. And sure enough the girl on the label looked really dated, with an apron and beehive hairdo. He checks the can, and sure enough, it’s dated 1983. 1983, how in the world did that happen? How could I have possibly had a can of that since 1983?
Well, to be honest, I haven’t used Static Guard in years, but 1983, that was twenty-eight years ago. But it still worked, it did the job for him, despite it’s age. Geezy Pete, doesn’t time fly…