Bad News and Bad food

My mother's closest friend, Harriett, had a most unfortunate accident yesterday. She fell and broke her hip while line dancing. Now I know that is tragic and all, and I feel terrible for her, but I secretly said a little prayer, "Dear Lord, If I have to fall and break my hip when I'm 80, please let it be from line dancing and not from falling off the toilet." I couldn't help myself, it was the first thing that popped into my head. All I could think about was when Elvis died from a heart attack, not while gyrating on the stage or making love to a nubile 20 year old, but while excusing himself (alright, I can't say it any other way, you know what I mean and it's just gross) on the toilet, and that's all most people remember about him now. Harriett, if you ever read this, I'm sorry and hope I didn't embarrass you, because you are one of the most gracious of Southern ladies I've ever known, and now you're my hero because you have a cool story to tell about how you broke your hip while boot-scooting boogieing (also, when you get to rehab, I know where you can get a good deal on a used crutch). I just had to get that off my chest....
...now I have to get back to cleaning out the refrigerator. My parents left this afternoon to spend several weeks at the mountain house. Yesterday was our one week anniversary of moving back home, and they left today. Even though we had Psychology class today, I absolutely refuse to psychoanalyze that. I am sure they are DELIGHTED to have us living with them. Anyway, as soon as they left, I hit the refrigerator armed with trash bags and disinfectant. For some reason, my parents don't believe food spoils. I do. I also do not believe the refrigerator should function as a greenhouse. Every time I come home, I sneak into the kitchen to de-fur the fridge...anything with something growing on it goes out. I threw away the leftover jar of gravy from Christmas, 2 bags of shrimp that had an expiration date two months ago, a jar of salsa with a nice green fur coat, some kind of cheese with a nice batch of penicyllin forming, and three other bags of other questionable delectables. When they come home to the spotlessly clean but suspiciously empty fridge, I am going to swear that we ate everything in there while they were away. Never had to go to the grocery store once in the two weeks they were gone. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.