The first time this hit me was when an ex-coworker derided my lunch. “Oh, you’re have leftovers for lunch.”
I wasn’t having leftovers. I was having a grilled pork chop, mashed sweet potatoes with a balsamic reduction, and roasted broccoli. Hardly a Tupperware full of last nights gruel and likely better than anything I would get at any of the close lunch places.
During my second re-homing this year, I noticed that almost everything I have could be considered a leftover: an unwanted couch, chairs that didn’t match the office remodel, the bookshelf that wouldn’t fit in my ex’s new house. Literally things that were left over as other people have moved on or changed their minds.
Except for the TV stand, everything in my living room pictured above is a leftover. I couldn’t be more pleased with it.