Hunting through an alien world

On Saturday morning before I was even 4% awake I opened the fridge for milk for my coffee. 4% awake is not nearly enough to deal with the horrible smell that assaulted me...part sweaty farty man smell and part rancid festering foot boils with just a hint of fermenting fruit.

It was time for a full-fridge clean, because a quick dash through the shelves to throw away any ancient leftovers wasn't going to work. If I was going to hunt down the deadly colony making that smell, it made sense to de-jelly the shelves too.


<=== See that mess? That comes from having a husband and kids. I've never gotten around to drawing a map of where things go, so stuff just get shoved anywhere. Leftovers disappear between the half gallon jar of nasty sweet pickle relish (not nasty as in spoiled - nasty as in whoever invented that disgusting concoction to ruin hotdogs should be shot). You can't tell from the picture but there's 3 different containers of Grey Poupon hidden in there, because according the laws of the person that is is not me, it's illegal to actually finish one container of something before opening the spare. I also have more than one jar of regular mustard that doesn't look and smell like a pile of baby poop. Plus, it's important to have several empty containers, because I wouldn't want anyone else in the family to have to make the effort of walking the 3 feet to the trash can. Please put the empties back in the fridge, so that I have something to do with my oodles of spare time.






I took everything out of the door and off the shelves. Any that looked the least odd went on my list of stench suspects, but everything passed. The stupid smell was hiding. I cleaned the door and all the shelves and started putting things back in a way that made a little more sense. I found that we have 7 types of salad dressing. That seems excessive for a family of people that don't really like salad. At the very back of a shelf was a half full jar of pickles. I can't remember that last time I bought pickles. They were hidden behind the vat o' relish. I guess I didn't notice them before, because I refuse to look at the relish if at all possible. I had to tackle the drawers. Although the stench of satan didn't smell produce-like, you never know. I have a habit of thinking "oooh, I want carrots" and then letting them disintegrate the drawer, because I picked up the carrots before I hit the cupcake aisle and found something better. The deli drawer yielded no clues, although I have more kinds of cheese than I do salad dressing. Cheese for lunch for everyone for a month should take care of that problem. I also have several packages of flour tortillas that each contain only one or two. That goes back to that thing where we're not allowed to have spares because everything must be open. I have a whole bunch of packages of sauce from Del Taco. I'm glad all that cheese didn't make them burst.



When I took out produce drawer #1, a little fell onto the shelf below, but I wasn't paying attention, because I had produce to catalog...radishes, green onions, carrots, celery, THREE cucumbers (seriously? 3?), potatoes, tomatoes, basil, apples. Like salad, I don't really like a lot of other produce either. It's the first section of the grocery store, and I always going in there starving and think a cucumber and a yucky stalk of celery will make my stomach stop growling. I have to remember to start my shopping trips on the other side. We can survive on deli food and cupcakes, right? I arranged all the produce by color, height, and how little I like it and put the drawers back.

The fridge was organized, sorted, scrubbed, and pretty. I even defingerprinted the outside. It gets fingerprinty, because the fridge handles in our house are only for decoration once the door is opened. The fridge can only be shut by placing a dirty hand on clean spot and shoving. I love the guy that decided stainless steel should be a fingerprint magnet. He's my awesome hero.



I couldn't stall on that little container anymore. Since nothing else made my nose hairs run away and hide in my armpits, it had to be that little plastic tub of joy. I didn't take off the lid, but I did hold the container as close as I could to my eyes without them melting. I think it might have been tuna. I wasn't willing to check, so the whole thing went in the garbage. You'd think that would be the end of it, but then the guilt set in. You know in Men In Black when that whole world lived on a little tiny ball on a cat's collar? What if there was a world in that tuna tub, and I just threw it away? I could spend the rest of my life haunted by smelly little tuna beings.