I hate my brother

I hate my brother Phil. Okay, maybe I don't hate him. But he can be annoying.

Phil loves ketchup and he hates waste. As to ketchup, I use it sparingly when I use it at all. And I get it about waste: we shouldn't. But now it seems he's become my conscience about both waste and ketchup.

My mother I were out yesterday and we stopped for lunch at McDonald's. We had to use the self serve kiosk to order and our food was brought out to where we sat. When we were served, there was along with our burgers and fries two small opened and uncovered cups of ketchup, maybe a couple ounces worth max.

I wasn't going to use it. But if I didn't use it it would go to waste. McDonald's I knew couldn't take it back or would simply throw it away. We could have asked for covers and the ketchup would get put in my van, where it would very likely get lost somehow. I would not use it the several months later when I would surely find it, probably gushed all over a seat after something having been heaved upon it. That would be the same as waste and doubly irritating. So I did something I rarely do: I dipped my fries in it to use.

I wasn't using enough, so I ended up dipping my hamburger in it. Just to use it. Just to not waste. Mom wanted none of it, and there was no way I could make her use any even if I should have tried.

I used virtually all of that ketchup. Phil will be happy about that. I on the other hand hate him.