Lost in Suburbia: A post-apocalyptic house cleaning
I’m usually pretty good about keeping track of what’s in my fridge. But over the course of a few weeks, the food containers seem to multiply and take over. By the time I get around to realizing that some items have been in there too long, the contents of the containers way in the back of the refrigerator either look like a science experiment gone awry, or a refrigerated toupee.
This would be a good thing if I was in dire need of penicillin because I’m pretty sure I could cultivate a decent batch of antibiotics from the mold growing in there. But when you’re looking for a snack, former food that is now black and hairy is not really all that appetizing.
My problem is, I have one of those top-freezer refrigerators, so I practically have to sit on the floor to see what’s on the bottom shelf. Because of this, I will often jam a lot of food down there, but then forget to check back in a timely manner to see if the leftovers are, in fact, still food, or have been transformed into ET.
Our first indication that something is amiss is a noxious smell emanating from the vicinity of the refrigerator. By the time our eyes start to tear up when we enter the kitchen, we know that something truly bad is lying in wait behind the refrigerator door. So then, the sniffing game begins. First I start with the milk because that is usually the first to turn. Then I sniff my way through various cheeses and yogurts; down to the lettuce in the crisper which may have turned dark green and slimy while it was hidden in the drawer.
That is when I will notice the food container on the bottom shelf, shoved in the back next to the jar of pickles and other things I always buy that never get eaten.
Slowly, nervously, I will peel back the lid of the container — just enough to catch sight of something that may have evolved to such a degree that it could possibly push the lid open the rest of the way, jump out of the plastic container, and go on to propagate into a new species known as “Meatloafus Erectus” — a new breed of Hamburger Helper which can walk on two feet and communicate with other forms of ground beef.
Having found the culprit, I then face the daunting task of cleaning the nasty mold-and-food encrusted plastic container. If it had been filled with something tomato sauce-based, I either immediately toss it in the garbage or accept the fact that my formerly clear containter is now and will forever be pink. If I decide to keep it, it gets soaked, boiled, thrown in a NASA decontamination chamber, and then run through the dishwasher at scorching temperatures where it will then be completely disinfected and also melted into a useless blob of plastic.
Then I will vow to never leave leftover food in the refrigerator ever again.
Unless, of course, someone gets sick and we need some penicillin.
— For more Lost in Suburbia, follow Tracy on Facebook at facebook.com/LostinSuburbiaFanPage or on Twitter at @TracyBeckerman.