So, Gentle Reader, my refrigerator has just gratefully received its unpredictably-timed bath. I hope it is duly thankful. It’s a job I detest. Why? You didn’t say it out loud, but I heard it in your head.
First, I do NOT enjoy housecleaning of any variety. I do it out of dire necessity. I dislike wondering if the veggies growing on my kitchen floor are radishes or carrots.
Second, housecleaning is futile. You see, even though my refrigerator will smile at me in complete innocence when I go back there in an hour to get supper under way, I know–and IT knows—that in the dark watches of the night when I’m having nightmares about fridgey gremlins, there will be REAL ONES waging a full-scale battle in the deli drawer, the meat drawer, the fruit drawer, and the veggie drawer .Anything not consigned to those drawers will be oozing gunk…
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