I consider myself a pretty good housekeeper. Neurotic and compulsive sometimes, even. Ask my husband (former and present).
It has earned me the nickname, Tidy-Bowl by my sisters. Always cleaning and polishing.
I clean the bathroom every day. I keep things picked up, neat and orderly. I wipe up spills from the floor immediately. I keep the laundry done, even ironing cotton shirts when today's generation doesn't know what an iron is, leave alone own one.
Why, then, when I opened my refrigerator this morning, was I greeted by an emerging Penicillin laboratory? Fuzz on a cucumber, a squishy lime, grated cheese that expired in March, bean soup from over a week ago and a pickle jar with only the juice remaining. I won't go on.
So I filled the kitchen sink with sudsy water, emptied all the shelves, filled the wastebasket and garbage disposal with the above mentioned items, and then some.
Washed and dried the shelves. Restocked the frig with the remaining products that escaped destruction.
Stood back and admired the clean shelves. A great feeling of relief came over me as I realized nobody else actually saw it before it was cleaned, so I wouldn't be found out. My reputation intact. Tidy Bowl.
So now I'm off to the grocery store to replenish my supply. I can start fresh with a clean frig.
Until next time....
