Yoghurt - what more can happen?

I am indebted to my eldest daughter for today's blog.  We were standing before an open fridge (it's all right, it was our fridge, we don't make a habit of breaking in to unsuspecting people's houses and opening their fridges.  We don't even make a habit of breaking in to suspecting people's houses.  This, I reason, would only make their paranoia worse) and contemplating clearing out some of the more...errr...lively contents. There was actually a fist-fight going on between two sausages and a lump of something green, which had been there so long that they had achieved, not just sentience, but a form of civilisation.  I think they worshipped chorizo, or something.

I suppose they sing 'Oh Come, All Ye Fatful'...

Anyway.  There we were, cheering on the green stuff (we always root for the underdog.  And under my dog there is quite a lot of green stuff.  He's either been swimming in the pond again or he's going mouldy) and thinking about what to throw away, when it occurred to me - cheese is basically milk that's gone off.  As is yoghurt. Everything that can happen to yoghurt has already happened.  The strange black blobs floating on the surface are merely a courtesy detail.  Similarly mushrooms.  Mushrooms are what happens to other things.  And since ninety per cent of the contents of my fridge are cheese, yoghurt and mushrooms - there was no need to clear them out.  They'd gone as far as they were going!

I mean, what happens to mushrooms when they go mouldy?  Hmmmm?  Some sort of recursive process, whereby they grow mushrooms on them?

Mushrooms don't go mouldy, they just give each other piggybacks.

And, upon this earth-shattering realisation, I closed the fridge door and went off to do something more interesting.  Now all I have to do is train the limescale in the shower into the shape of a soapdish and I need never do housework again, ever!

And, yes, 'Yoghurt - what more can happen?' is an excellent t-shirt slogan...