When we went up to have lunch with my grandfather last month he had me go through the kitchen and take a few of Grandma’s things. I picked up some beautiful little tea towels she had hand stitched way back when they were first married, a couple of kitchen tools, some beautiful fruit they had canned and two packages of English Tea Cookies. There were packages and packages of English Tea Cookies, some in Tupperware, some in plastic bags, some just sitting there in their wrapping, looking all dejected and sad. He wanted me to take them all but not being a huge fan of English Tea Cookies I figured two would be good.
We got home, opened up the first package a few days later and I had a few. Really not worth the calories if you ask me. Mark pointed out that, like so many things made by the Brits, these were bland and unfulfilling. Mark being mostly British, we felt comfortable with this little slam on those pasty white people. OH jeeze, I just did it again. You all are gonna think I’m a big ol’ xenophobe. I’m not; I just enjoy making fun of people who are different from me. Irate British folk may send your hate mail here.
ANYWAY, back to the point. So I stopped eating the cookies and Mark continued to munch his way through the bag with the aid of a tall glass of rice milk. Sometime towards the end of the bag we found a coupon for a discount on more bad cookies. Let me just say that had we only paid attention we would have realized that we were given fair warning in these two little items on the package:
But no. We didn’t do the simple math. Instead, I found myself staring at this:
That’s right, folks. The expiration date on the coupon does indeed say 12/31/95. Mark consumed most of a package of cookies that had been sitting in my grandmother’s cupboard for AT LEAST TEN YEARS.
Back off, ladies. He’s all mine.