Leftovers

Leftovers. Surplus.  Extras. What to do with them? 
Most of our table scraps go to the 9 cats (no, that is not a typo, we have NINE cats) that hang out on our back porch.  I am beginning to see the point to what Bob Barker and Drew Carey have been saying all along.  I didn't really think that we would ever have a cat over-population problem around here since most of our kitties committed suicide on the road before reaching sexual maturity (and the two that I thought were mating were actually brothers, not brother and sister, so I guess it was just innocent wrestling after all.)  But suddenly, the cats wised up about traffic, made babies and then invited the neighbor's cats to live here.  Now, with the leftover kittens and friends, we have nine very tame barn cats that think they live on the back porch eating scraps from our table.  No wonder our dog disappeared.
Anyway.
What about the other stuff that remains past its purpose?
Like...

Candy canes.

I have a cup of pretty candy canes left from Christmas sitting on the counter in my kitchen.  None of my children like them.  I don't know why I bought them, except that it seems to be the seasonal thing to do and I occasionally like one sitting in a cup of hot chocolate.  But most of these are left from Christmas 2010. And the newer ones are mixed in.  I should probably just pitch them out, eh?

OK.
Thanks for solving that question for me.

What about

Chili peppers.

Also sitting in my kitchen. I dried them in the window sill.  Let's pretend it was on purpose.  Can I use them? Should I? For what? 
Until you decide for me, I'm going to leave them in the entirely inappropriate setting they currently enjoy because I like the contrast of dark ripened red with the vintage blue. 
And also because they remind me of a shriveled old woman's nose. 
They're like a window into my future, I guess.

I still have more leftovers around here.

Leftover sickness.
The kind that hasn't bothered a child for three days until he is presented with a dinner that he does not enjoy.
"My appetite's just not back," he sadly murmurs as he pushes the plate away.
Well, I've disinfected the toilet and its surroundings too much this week to chance it.  That kid was excused from the table.

I guess I didn't need your help  with that.

What about these leftovers from this yesterday's afternoon?

Oh, no worries. I figured out what to do with those.  It took a little help from the kiddos, but we got 'em sorted out.

What about chores left from yesterday? Or the day before maybe?  Like the clean laundry folded and piled on my dining room table?
OK. I know the answer.
Sigh.
I just wish it would put itself away.
Or that my sister could keep her intended visit (prevented by sick cousins on either side) because nothing whips me into a fury of tidiness like knowing I'll have a "drop in."

Or how about this entire post, left from last night when I was interrupted by The Man of The House who wanted to watch "that trashy show" (known throughout the rest of the civilised world as Downton Abbey)?  I quit typing and pulled up Netflix because I think he's feeling left out a little.  And I think he's trying to get caught up on season 1 so that he can join me on Sunday night at my parents' house to watch more of season 2.  Hey.  Maybe he can help me with my hair this time.  It's just so hard to arrange one's hair in a style leftover from the era of ladies' maids without, erm... a lady's maid.

I guess I'll just spell check and publish.
That's what I will do with these leftovers.