I am forced to admit that pack-rat tendencies run in the family. With my mother, this is especially so with regard to food, though I think my grandmother possibly surpasses her.

After rummaging in the fridge for a while (because I was hungry), I found one-quarter of a mooncake carefully stored away, which I discovered to have a layer of crust over its paste. This is presumably due to the more wintry conditions in the refrigerator, which slowly dries non-living things after a prolonged period of time. Having the same instincts to conserve food, I ate it.

Next was the discovery of half a turnip, leftover from a turnip dish cooked about one month ago. Before yesterday, it had several uncut companions sprouting in a corner of our kitchen.

My grandmother inquired over the nian2 gao1 (you know, the sticky brown cake that's supposed to symbolise prosperity and suchlike) that my mother threw away yesterday as well. We all complimented her on her memory, because it had been there since Chinese New Year.

There is also a little bag of sauce that was provided a few days ago, when my parents bought chicken rice. I have established a pattern to this. Usually, out of a desire not to waste food, my family will carefull keep such leftovers in the fridge, where it will reside for a few days until it becomes undeniably rotten. Then we will throw it away with a clear heart and an unburdened soul.