My Roommate’s Thanksgiving 2017 Leftovers Are Still In The Fridge

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I met my roommate, who we’ll call “Tim,” in college. Since then we’ve lived together for a total of four years. As reckless college kids to established young professionals, Tim and I have been through some serious shit together. From girls and family troubles to blacking out, pulling the fire alarm at our building, and acting innocent when the fire department showed up – we’ve been through it all. However no situation comes close to the vile predicament Tim put us in starting on November 24th, 2017.

At our last apartment in 2016, Tim had his Thanksgiving leftovers in the fridge until I cleaned them out in May of 2017. They were hidden behind other items for so long that I never even realized they were still in there. Needless to say, I was appalled. Thanksgiving is one of my top holidays. It’s a day consisting of football, cold but not too cold weather, seeing family, and just the right amount of time spent back in your hometown. But obviously the main highlight is the food. How can you not get slightly aroused when thinking of an absolute feast consisting of the all-time best comfort foods? I’ll tell you how. Watching your favorite Thanksgiving foods slowly rot away in your fridge day after day gives you terrifying mental images in your head the next time you see them. But I mean… I get it.

So this past Thanksgiving in 2017, when I got back to my apartment the following day, I noticed Tim’s leftovers had once again found a home in our fridge. This time they were center stage in bright red Rubbermaid containers. Mac n cheese, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and turkey meatballs were all in their own separate containers. Tim saw me staring wide-eyed at the inside of the fridge. I imagine I looked like every Game of Thrones character when they first saw The Night King and his army of the dead. Tim proudly exclaimed, “Duuudeee these leftovers are going to be so fire to eat after going out tonight. Feel free to have some.” I had no plans to eat the leftovers that would soon become such a pivotal part of my daily life.

I immediately took out my phone, Snapped a photo of the leftovers, and captioned it “Taking bets on when Tim will take these leftovers out of the fridge.” Ten friends replied with most assuming he would have them out by at least Christmas or New Year’s Day. A long time to still have Thanksgiving leftovers in the fridge, but again, I have known Tim for a long time and knew they were severely overestimating his basic living habits.

The New Year passed and the leftovers had not moved. I contacted the 10 friends who had placed bets and gave them the news that the leftovers were still there, and that I would take new bets for $5 each. A couple simply replied with “Jesus, dude. No. Just clean that shit out.” The rest replied with estimated clean out dates of Easter, mid-summer, end of August – when our lease ends – and Thanksgiving 2018 assuming we renew our lease.

Well, August has arrived and Tim and I have decided not to renew and will actually be parting ways. The leftovers saga hasn’t ruined our friendship. I simply am switching to a one bedroom near work as I have always wanted to. The amount of people who know about the leftovers has now expanded from the 10 original bettors and now includes families, friends, coworkers, clients, and random people at the bars. Everybody but Tim is aware of this betting pool regarding his leftovers that are now approaching the 9 month mark of being in the fridge. Over the nine months, he’s actually added more leftovers to the collection. Chili, ground turkey, and something I don’t have the heart or stomach to investigate have been added to the cesspool.

Perhaps even crazier is that there is no smell coming from these leftovers – shout out to Rubbermaid – people have even tried smelling the fridge while Tim is not around, and you can’t smell a thing. If it did absolutely reek, I may have thrown them out myself again, but too many people are invested in this saga now to let my pain get in the way.

With move out day approaching, I am beginning to brainstorm ways to break the news to him that all of our friends and even random strangers now know about his repulsive living habit. Should I print out screenshots of the group text discussing his leftovers and give them to him as a moving out gift? Should I call his parents and Homeland Security? Perhaps I’ll just burn the apartment down with no explanation. What I do know is that I may never look at mac n cheese quite the same way ever again, but I’m still going to gobble it up on Thanksgiving..

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Don Billingsley

Using wit and humor to hide the fact that I don't know what I'm doing at work or in life. Strongest Insta captions in the game.