Full Moons and Safety Glass
Full Moons and Safety Glass
Balancing money, time, self, and family
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The Power of the Stink
Lately my fridge has had an odor. A simultaneously sweet, sour, and rancid odor. This situation is somewhat remarkable given the fact that the fridge was nearly devoid of food—save for a few baby carrots, Sierra Nevada, and yogurt.
Ah…the content of my current fridge just took me back momentarily to my mid-twenties. Sorry for the digression. The fridge was almost empty because my recent work trip out of state meant that I had missed my mid-week “refresher” market trip. Usually, I make an effort to stock up before heading out of town, but this time that didn’t happen. And, as a result, the girls ate enough pancakes that my four-year-old announced today that she was tired of pancakes. But, today my lovely husband informed me that he was (ta da) going to make a trip to the grocery store. I tried to relish in this unbelievably shocking news, but he caveatted his proclamation with a “This means I need your help cleaning out the fridge.” Now, let’s keep in mind that said fridge is usually my responsibility to both fill up and clean out. I usually do this just prior to a grocery store trip in an effort to identify unidentified needed items like tartar sauce or shredded Parmesan cheese. I often pull everything out, marveling at how unidentifiable sticky substances manage to adhere themselves to the shelves (what is that stuff, anyway?). Nonetheless, his request that I clean out the fridge left me feeling somewhat defensive. Defensive because it was an indication that as a busy, working mom (who frequently travels for work) that my fridge stocking and cleaning had been inadvertently shirked. After a few minutes of stewing in my defensiveness, I came to a realization. He is, actually, capable of cleaning out the fridge. I reminded myself that he was, in fact, single for 37 years before marrying me and—I surmised—likely cleaned out his prior fridges many times in the past. Instead of throwing this back in his face, I waited until he was out of the house and cleaned out the fridge. I also tried not to get annoyed when three hours later he arrived home and pointed out that I had not gotten all of the cooties out of the fridge—proof of which he waved at me from the kitchen—a package of hermetically sealed feta cheese one month past its due date. I don’t even like feta. It was his stupid feta. 4 comments from 4 users
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posted by
kellimwheeler
on Jan 20, 2009 at 12:04 PM
You did the right thing. If we waited for the men to clean out the fridge, there would still be Keystone Light loitering in the back, a bonzai Chinese food tree growing and at least one shelf unusuable with half-eaten jars of various types of olives. Plus, if it were me, I would've put the Feta under his pillow. posted by
creatress
on Jan 20, 2009 at 02:13 PM
Oooo, that would really irritate me. We have an un-spoken rule in our house that if you'd like something cleaned, changed, done better... you feel free to do it! Just speaking of it makes you be the chosen one. I think I'd make him eat that feta.
posted by
hmoeckli
on Jan 20, 2009 at 07:15 PM
posted by
wifemotherdaughtersister
on Jan 21, 2009 at 07:21 AM
i seriously think that there is something in wedding vows that turns men into mush.
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