One of the classic signs of real poverty is when you run out of something, you're out until you get your check at the beginning of the month. In our case, we were out of everything because poverty is a constant, we had to replace everything in our fridge and freezer that got ruined when the power was out, and that happened to come at the same time as being out of toilet paper, garbage bags, paper towels, and all cleaning supplies.
This means that we couldn't clean out the fridge until my check came, which it did on Friday. Being the red letter day we hit the market and filled up two shopping carts with everything we needed. Not only did it cost WAY more than we had to spend, it also was questionable whether it would fit in the Toymoter. But with some deft packing and a lot of swearing, we got it all in both the trunk and the entire back seat.
Once we got home, my son unloaded the car and then declared that he was done, having been the shopper and hauler. It was his sister's turn to help clean the fridge and freezer and then put all the food away. Only one problem. She wasn't home. So I called her and told her to get her butt home asap, which she did, and then I gave her the rundown on what needed doing,
Perhaps I'vc mentioned before that my precious little snowflake is a tad bit squeamish, no? Well, she is one freaking pansy, and she lets you know with freaky freak-out dancing and screaming and crying and she's gonna vomit no no no she can't handle it drama. Bette Davis couldn't beat this kid for the freak out act. Really.
So we fill up three huge bags, double bagged for your protection, of fridge and freezer crapola, and it's time to clean the machine. Here is where I admit that I do a thorough cleaning only a couple of times a year, at Passover and the High Holidays. Because it's hard, and because it's the worst damn job in the kitchen, in my opinion. It takes FOREVER to take out every drawer and bin and wash them, and then there are always the boy's leftovers that have glued themselves to containers, ewwww.
I pulled out the junk and then had my daughter wash the shelves and bins. The complaining! The angst! The back breaking labor she was unused to, why it was just wrong, she says, wrong!
And then she pulled out the right vegetable bin and went absolutely bonkers. Stark raving mad. A moment for reality television.
"THERE IS A SNAKE IN THE BOTTOM OF THE REFRIGERATOR" she screamed. And the freak out dancing commenced.
I toddle over from the freezer bags I'm packing with stuff for the freezer, and look. She's in tears and bending over swearing she's going to vomit. I peer into the fridge and there is a small, but impressive dessicated carrot perched on the very bottom of the fridge. Indeed, it looks like a lizard of sorts, all brown and shriveled. More like a giant gnute.
I tell her it's a carrot, but no... I'm a moron if I don't see it's a snake. Wah wah wah, much tearing at the flesh and renting the clothing ensues.
Seeing that there is no way she's going near that fridge until I clean it, I sit in my wheelchair and roll over with a long tongs in my hands and remove the carrot.
Still freaking out, she insists that I put it in a special plastic bag of it's own and then in the double plastic garbage bags. There goes our carbon footprint for the month!
I get the sponge and scrubber and try to erase any sign of the errant carrot, but she's still threating to vomit in the hallway.
Being the bitch I am, I make her go back to work cleaning the rest of the fridge, but she refuses to clean out under the other vegetable drawer. No way, no how.
I'll let her brother do it tomorrow. After all, I did the shopping, put the food away, cleaned out the fridge of the stuff that needed to be tossed, and cleaned the freezer. He can wash under one drawer, right?
Might I just mention that carrot was gross?