I have decided that I now fully understand the meaning of trust. See, I opened up the fridge to scout around for leftovers. Because I am scarcely home for long stretches as of late, I can usually identify things that have migrated/been removed/been added since my last perusal. As I was scouting through the fridge, perched between the case of Miller Lite and the milk jug was an 8 by 8 pan of....something. I decided it merited a closer look. This something had hamburger in it, so hopefully we can rule out science experiments. It passed the bachelor four senses test: No fuzz (touch), no green (sight), no rank odor (smell), and finally, no funky aftertaste (taste). We were good. We were set. And so after pulling a Miller Lite from the beer case, I took my latest discovery and returned to my computer. It was a casserole of sometime, and while not being amazing (I have yet to meet a casserole that truly "wowed" me), it was edible. It was servicable. It was about halfway through this culinary mystery that I realized that at some time in the past twelve years, I had reached a significant point in married life: that point where you can't identify the food, but you can identify it AS food and you eat it anyway. In single life, of course, you do this, but generally you trust yourself (although such trust has occasionally been misplaced, such as when you correctly qualify the month and day of the milk in your fridge but unfortunately forget to check out the YEAR). But true trust is when you extend that trust to someone else. But I think it will be many years before I venture into the mystery drawer in the fridge. That is a level of trust I am currently unwilling to explore!