Tragedy in the Kitchen

I awoke this morning to tragedy in the kitchen. Edgar and I both forgot to put the gumbo in the fridge last night. So, we had a big pot of delicious leftover gumbo laughing at us all the way to the trash can. I tried to tease myself into thinking that it was pretty cool last night, so perhaps the natural temperature of the kitchen would have preserved it. But, since my pregnancy journal has been focused for the past 5 days on how to prevent food born illnesses, my better judgement took over the sentimental feelings, and common sense got the best of me. I called Edgar as soon as I discovered it. He said he found it this morning, but decided not to tell me as he gently kissed my forehead goodbye. Sleep has been an enigma for me lately and I was just too peacefully snoozing for him to wake me with such earth shattering news. It was a sad morning. We grieved for the hard work, the chopping, the stirring, the laughs we shared as we mutually prepared this feast for dinner less than 12 hours prior. We also moved on. The pot is now clean, safely drying in the open air. Tonight's dinner is already accounted for, and tomorrow, when we make our planned Jamie Oliver inspired tortilla soup, we will not forget to put it in the fridge. Especially since I'm planning on making double the recipe to fill my freezer for many delicious lunches to come. That would be a double tragedy.