My wife, myself, three adult children, a cat, and a dog; that’s our household. So imagine what the fridge looks like. Don’t even try to imagine how the back of the fridge looks. I view it as a sort of journey into the Heart of Darkness. The trays, drawers, the unimaginable back recesses!
It all gets pulled apart at regular intervals, “who does this belong to?” Because everyone has different food interests, allergies, and diets. I’m lactose intolerant, but it doesn’t stop my ice cream habit; someone else has a hatred for gluten. The dog and the food cans are in there, also. “Where is the…Mayo, BarBQue sauce, mustard, or salsa are the sounds of regular kitchen life.
It grew bad enough that the fridge was subdivided into one in a daughter’s room for her special diet needs and one on the porch for my wife’s food prepping for meals.
But I only have one question. Why the hell am I still lost in the rear of the dammed fridge like I’m looking for Colonel Kurtz in Apocolypse Now when all I want is the damned yogurt!