It was too rainy for my sister’s regular Wednesday golf game, so instead we went to my parent’s house to do some cleaning. She did a basement room and I cleaned the fridge.
Not for the squeamish. Proceed with caution.
Before
Terrifying! Not one square centimeter of free space to put another thing. Multiple bottles with a quarter of an inch of barbecue sauce in the bottom. Mysterious unlabeled Tupperware containers full of brackish liquid.
No less than three jars of water blessed by the priest. My mom claims it never goes bad. What she uses it for is beyond me. I was careful not to get any on my skin – just in case.
Contents of the condiment door
I consolidated what I could and threw out what was vile.
You get something out of this, King Crabby.
I think it’s never been opened. It has a barcode so it can’t be that old (I don’t think they can go bad anyway – the cockroaches will be feasting on them long after human life has disappeared from the earth).
After
Note all the empty space! And the absence of mold! (and the single jar of holy water on the middle shelf).
My back is killing me.
There wasn’t time to do the freezer – I’ll do it another day.
Before you ask – I’m not cleaning your fridge. Or anyone else’s.
Posted by Jean Poutine
I think the holy water and maraschino cherries serve the same purpose in the fridge. They are for emergencies. When things look bad I always turn to God and maraschino cherries.
What is it about parents and worst-after fridge-door condiments? Every time I go to my Mom’s house, I go through her collection of aged salad dressings and chuck them out. And anyway, how many salad dressings does one woman need?Maybe it’s one of the tell-tale signs of becoming a senior. We should keep an eye on each other’s fridges for warning signs, Jean.
You can clean my fridge anytime.