Some homekeeping duties are gross (kid’s bathroom) some are depressing (file organization) but only one is gross and depressing: deep cleaning the fridge. It’s a trip down bad memory lane—nothing found in the back of the fridge brings back fond memories. Party food always gets eaten, yummy desserts never last more than a day, celebratory champagne doesn’t even make it back in there. No, what's left to excavate from the dark recesses of the fridge are things like gallon jars of Flax seeds from that organic antioxidant kick I was on for about 12 minutes, or bottles of kid’s probiotics that remind me of when my daughter was so very sick last summer after I started my new job. Leftovers from a terrible dinner weeks ago now look like a topographical map of Nicaragua and the fish oil capsules from the anti-aging diet I found in some magazine are so old they fused together and look more like a resin sculpture than supplements. The hoarder in me is uncovered as well, in bag after bag after bag of coffee beans. My fear of having a caffeine-free morning has manifested in hundreds of dollars worth of coffee beans clogging the bins where vegetables are supposed to be kept crisp. I blame this vegetable displacement for the unidentifiable ziploc baggie full of mush that got wedged back behind martini olives from the last century. The horrifying contents of said baggie might, with the tools available at a forensic lab, be traced back to the celery family.
Am I the only one who sees the uncleaned fridge as a Petri dish of failures?