Saturday, March 31, 2012

Measured by the refridgerator stick.

Why is it, when I leave for vacation, and I have the impulse to clean out the refrigerator (don't want any stinky items in there when I return) before I pack the last kid&dog into the car...why is it I can't get this quite right? Inevitably, the evening of our return, I open those white doors into the cool and it smells. Is it the leftover soup the kids made the day before we left? The rice with spinach that was the last meal the evening before? Why can I not get rid of these items before I leave? Yes, they are new then, but when I return, no longer appetizing. And why is it that in the clean out prior to departure, I don't notice the bag of shriveled grapes at the back, or the yogurt that was best before 12/4/11?
Maybe the answer lies in the return. I am refreshed, I am glad to be home. I wish I was a better fridge cleaner, and now with my rediscovered love of house,home and fridge, I think I can be the gal with the tidy fridge.
Only, I'm not. I get rid of the leftovers, shriveled grapes and expired dairy, and then I'm on to the next need. Making corn pasta with herbs from the garden for the travel weary family, inspecting the carcass of the hen, recently divided by a hawk and lying in the yard, fixing the electric fence, as the horses clearly have not been respecting boundaries, walking through the gardens, trying to enjoy the tulips and ignore the triumphing weeds, not succeeding and making monstrous to-do lists.
Then, the ultimate "I'm home!" joy of sliding into my marshmallow of a bed, crisp sheets, soft down. Maybe tomorrow, before a trip to the grocery, I'll get around to really cleaning my refrigerator.

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