Ecto

A couple of our household chores fall in the "stand-off" category. "If I just wait long enough..." You'd think bathrooms would be one. No. You might suspect windows. Nope. Garage. Yes. Making the bed. Yes. Refrigerator. Big fat hearty beefy smelly ECTOPLASMIC yes. I tackled ours tonight. What our house has needed sorely lately is a housekeeper instead of a full-time carpenter and a full(and then some) time teacher and lame-o graduate student by night. The clue that our fridge was reaching critical mass was when I opened it and our leftovers (having morphed from food into identities capable of voting Democrat) greeted me by name and inquired about the grandkids. I started with the sourdough start. I always start there. The routine is to remove the lid on the crock and pour the "hooch" down the drain. Dr. Hess (when he gave me the start) said I could drink that, but I choose not to. Then I take a wooden spoon--never metal--and stir the start. I'll leave it on the counter to warm up and then "feed" it tomorrow--equal parts water and flour. I might scare up some pancakes over the holiday, so I'll want to vamp it up a little. Following the start rejuvenation, I began to untangle the fridge. Pretty routine--slowly pry off lids, sniff a little, gag mightily, and then down the garburator it goes. Tonight I found a cumulus cloudlike mass hovering in a yellow Tupperware bowl. I grabbed a plastic fork to prod it a bit. To my utter amazement under the fluffy covering was the grassiest green...spinach hummus...I think! Then in another container lay an egg thing. Gray and cracking, kind of lolling in a black liquid of sorts, but still egg-like. I'm thinking hard-boiled at one time. It galurpled as I emptied it into the sink. Galurpled. We had an inordinate amount of jam containers tonight--residue from Paco's canning frenzy I imagine. Then there were the usuals--brown lettuce in its own au jus, some leftover chicken soup that certainly could never be good for the soul, bread/hockey pucks, carrots you can tie in multiple knots, and a pickle jar sans pickles--just juice. I've thought long and hard over the years as to a solution. An inventory posted on the front where you keep track of what you put in, take out, use up, or replace? Probably Martha, but not us. A weekly sponge out? A bi-annual sponge out? I'm thinking someone out there has to have a plan. Anyone? The true miracle is that I have yet to read in an obituary that the cause of someone's death was "refrigerator related" because it truly is a hazard. Right up there with slppery rugs and dog bites. Speaking of dogs, ours hasn't bitten anyone lately, but tonight (in an attempt to get as far away from the automatic nailgun as caninely possible) climbed up onto my lap here and then took another step up to the computer desk where he plunked his butt right on the keyboard. Everything went sideways! Paco had to fix it. Meanwhile Mugsy is an absolute wreck. He hates all the noise associated with home improvements. Maybe he'd like a snack. Maybe some leftovers...