Once in a while, even in the best of families, things get a little out of hand. Case in point, my kitchen pantry and fridge.
Now you'd think, with three pantry shelves and four cubic feet of refrigerator space they'd behave themselves and stay organized. Not so. The last couple of days we had to stave off an avalanche every time we opened the pantry door and, something in that fridge has gone south. Every time the door is opened a distinctly funny smell wafts out.
I just spent a half hour organizing the pantry. My husband is blind to everything that isn't front and centre of any shelf. If there's anything obstructing a clear view of what he wants he can't find it. I don't think installing a beeper on the cracker box would help. He's deaf enough not to know which direction sounds are coming from. For that matter, so am I.
Our conversations the past few years have degenerated into this kind of exchange;
Him: (or me) Gibble, thing, rattlebox, cinderblocks.
Me: (or him) What?
Him: (or me) Gibble, thing, rattlebox, cinderblocks!
Me: (or him)WHAT?
Him: (or me) Why gibble you rattle LISTEN?
Me: (or him) (By now huffy) I was listening! You don't speak clearly!
Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, cleaning the pantry. He sticks everything in the front. It appears to be packed to the gills, while it's actually just stuffed in front with nothing behind.
Yesterday when I came home from the grocery store I couldn't get much of anything in the pantry, so it was time to reorganize. Now, with all the new stuff in, there's still lots of room. But it's in layers, front to back. Soon everything will be poised at the front again, the great wall of groceries. Inscrutable as the East. Requiring an expeditionary force to extract a can of beets.
I'm not complaining. He could drink, gamble or run around with other women. Piling everything in the front six inches of the pantry shelf is a minor vice, easily dealt with with a half hour of organization.
Next I have to tackle the fridge, which is also loaded to the gills. There's a rotten apple in that Denmark somewhere. It will have to be unloaded. Everything is in the front six inches of shelf, except that stinky whatever, which has probably been pushed to the back and forgotten. I'm trying to learn not to cook large quantities, but years of habit engulf me over the stove. I cook too much, we don't end up eating it all and occasionally a leftover escapes to mold comfortably behind the cabbage.
He has no idea what I am writing, but as often is the case, we mirror each other's thoughts. He just said, "It's amazing what we get in here though."
Yes, it certainly is. We want for nothing. We have more than enough. We are soooo happy. We are enjoying our little challenge, though we do wish the weather would warm up! This day after day of cold and biting wind hath no charm. The cat wants to go outside, and so do we.