Friday, July 8, 2011

Who's Scared of Their Refrigerator?

Morning Readers,

     I can see it now. A bright, shining kitchen..... waxed floors, cabinets with handles prominently touching the un-pop-corned ceiling, and a bowl full of oranges, are displayed before me. The camera pans to an impossibly skinny woman who looks like how you imagine you'd look if you could force yourself to drink those diet shakes for every meal instead of making the excuse you "don't want to die today." She smiles at you and opens a gleaming refrigerator, perfectly organized, perfectly clean, her hand easily finding the cheesecake-flavored yogurt she'll survive off of for the rest of the day. You die a little inside, not because she doesn't have a muffin top, but because she found that yogurt too, damn, easily. "Where are the hobos, the ghouls, the days-old casserole?", you yell. You begin to suspect advertisers aren't that honest.

     "Honey, I can't find anything in here. Things are starting to disappear in the back of the refrigerator....Honey?"

     I didn't answer right away. Finally, I said....."I know" and hoped he'd drop the subject. Husband shrugged and shut the door. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk about it, believe me, I did, but thinking about the microcosm/vortex forming in the back of the refrigerator was too much. You see, Readers, it's not that the thing is unorganized, he was right, things were getting lost and I didn't have the heart to tell him how bad our particular situation had become.

Monday: Searching for breakfast, I happen upon the casserole I'd made two weeks ago.  The swamp from The Neverending Story comes to mind when the pan springs to life and tries to suck my hand into an unknown, cheesy abyss (a place where Jearsey Shore re-runs and the World's surplus spandex is kept). I snatch my hand back and slam the door. I vow revenge on the casserole....next week.

Tuesday: Beer...In hot pursuit of a frost puppy, I shift the case of Coors and am accosted by a tribe of pigmies who've taken-up residence behind the apple sauce. I'm warned to stay away from the village and to buy more apple sauce, as they've eaten it all.

Wednesday: I hear a racket coming from the vegetable drawer.  Amelia Earhart climbs out, advises my carrots have gone bad and asks where she can get "a brand new compass". I spend the next two hours explaining how to use Google Maps and find a "like new" compass on Amazon for 2.50. (I realize I'll never be able to explain "Super Saver Shipping" to someone from 1937.)

Thursday: Relieved, I manage to find an unopened tub of cottage cheese on the crowded middle shelf. Before I can extract it, the entire colony of Roanoke shouts at me for removing the "right side of the settlement". I'm told "Croatoan" means.."Don't move our cottage cheese."

Friday: Instead of waffles, I discover the Donner Party in my freezer.

....I don't wish to expand on this.


      So, as it stands right now, I have three days until trash day. I'll spend the weekend plotting a strategy and buying large amounts of Clorox wipes. I'm only sure of one thing, I'm never opening the freezer again....unless, of course, Skinny Yogurt Lady wants to climb in there first....


Until Next Time, Readers!