Have you ever been really looking forward to a tasty morsel that you know is in your refrigerator only to open the door and find out it is gone? And no one even asked you if it was okay to eat it? This is a matter of food property rights. When I was growing up we never ate the last little bit of anything because my father might have wanted it. Our refrigerator was crammed full of a dollop of this, a splash of that. Many of the containers were candidates for school experiments on mold. At least at the moldy point you could finally throw them out. But in my experience as an adult with a husband and kids, there is no such deference. Yum, a little ice cream, eat it up! A bit of hummus, have it with the last cracker. I have to admit there is something a little sick about feeling cheated out of the last bite. Food should never be that important.