Surprisingly, this is a task that I semi-enjoy. Slightly repulsive, yes, but it's a fairly quick and satisfying cleaning job, as far as chores go. Of course, the repulsiveness and the quickness work in sort of an inverse relationship--the nastier the fridge situation, the longer it takes and the harder it gets to hold back the gag reflex. Tonight's fridge wasn't too bad, but it did prompt some musings.
Thought #1: Is there anything that can traverse the spectrum of tantalizing to disgusting quite as quickly as leftovers in a Tupperware? You cook a delicious dinner one night, and by the next evening it has already lost about half of its appeal. The next day, you only consent to eat it because, a) throwing it away would be a waste, and b) you're too lazy to cook something else when you have basically edible food that is just a quick 60 second microwave trip away from your dinner plate. However, if you forget about it for a few days (or weeks, let's be honest), it will quickly morph into such a horrific-looking and smelling blob of goo that it takes all of your courage and gastrointestinal fortitude to dispose of it.
Who hasn't come across their own personal version of leftover Armageddon hiding, no, LURKING in the back of the fridge, waiting for the time to sprout legs and slowly sludge its way into power, infesting all of your beautiful new groceries with evil and stench? One of the most frightening things to discover is the large white yogurt container sporting an expiration date from sometime around when dinosaurs roamed the Earth. You reach out a hand in trepidation, lest the live cultures in the yogurt (what the hell? live cultures?? that has never sounded good to me) have bloated the plastic beyond its endurance causing it to spontaneously burst at the slightest pressure. Okay, I've never actually had a Tupperware explode on me, but it's still a fear. Anyway, the worst thing about the yogurt containers is that they're made of white, opaque plastic, so you have no idea what situation you're about to uncover until the lid is off and your nose and eyes have been assaulted by 4 month old yogurt. If you've never witnessed the horror that is putrid yogurt, I hope you never have to. It's traumatizing.
I actually stumbled upon one of these terrible yogurt containers a few fridge-cleaning episodes ago. The bad part about living with roommates is that you never know whose leftovers are whose, so you have absolutely no idea how long some things have been living in your fridge. At least when you live alone, you can make some guess as to the origination/identity of leftover blobs. Anyhow, I have this fairly innocent-looking Yoplait container in my hand, with its pretty flowers and purple scripty writing, but I'm not fooled. I've opened enough of these to know to be cautious, so I take it to the sink. I set it down gingerly, and slowly peel off the lid, and
AAARCHGGHRA! What IS THAT???!?
I shriek in horror, drop the container as if it had grown teeth and taken a bite at me, and run off gagging, choking, and flailing my contaminated hands. Whatever I just saw, it was completely liquid, it was the color of urine, and it smelled like a salty dead animal. I've seen some nasty yogurt, but this is nightmare-inducing. After I calm myself down, I gird my loins for a second attempt--I will not be defeated by this. I'm a grown-up, dammit.
Shoulders squared, face averted, breath held: I open the container again and dump it quickly in the sink with the water running full blast. I can't help but take a glance out of the corner of my eye--it's a like a train wreck, you can't not look. And what do I see, but noodles swimming in the sink. Noodles! In yogurt?? What is this abomination? Then I put things together...the liquid, the color, the disturbingly not-yogurt smell: I just dumped out someone's chicken noodle soup.
Thought #2: Why is it such a terrible taboo to admit to leaving something in the fridge until liquid becomes solid, solid becomes liquid, black becomes white, smooth becomes fuzzy? If you've lived with roommates, this is an especially common situation. You're cleaning out the fridge, battling moldy monsters, and all you want is to clear up the mystery of how they took up residence behind that bag of grapes, and how no one noticed that smell until it took over the whole residential block. Somehow, everyone has developed leftover amnesia. No one is responsible. This is worrisome for one of three reasons. 1) one of your roommates is a dirty rotten liar, 2) someone's forgetfulness is so extreme that your fridge has turned into a biohazard and they can't even remember that they put it there, in which case you should worry about that person's ability to live and function alone, 3) some of your leftovers have been in there for so long that they have developed the capacity to reproduce, and the result is this mutant, zombie spawn. I'm not sure which option is the worst.
That's it for tonight's installment of Misadventures in Fridgeland. Hope I haven't permanently ruined anyone's appetite. Maybe I should include a disclaimer at the beginning of this post. Eh, you'll survive.
