Cleaning the
refrigerator, in my mind, is a chore ranked lower than
peeling potatoes.
The first refrigerator, left in my
charge, could be described as a walk through a medical
laboratory. The green mold, growing on once fresh
vegetables, is good for making certain antibiotics, I
was once told. Certainly there have never been any mice
in my refrigerator, but the laboratory species would
have greatly enjoyed the unwrapped crusty cheese and
uncapped milk that never saw the lid again after its
purchase.
Maybe my refrigerator hang-up is a
mechanical one. When first setting up, housekeeping
refrigerator shelves were made of thin metal rods or
grates that allowed easy spillage. When food or dishes
were placed on the shelves one had to be careful or any
material would fall through the "cracks." And to remove
and replace the refrigerator shelves meant joining the
two directly over the pegs, just in the right place, or
whoops! It all fell like Humpty Dumpty on a great wall.
Granted, my housekeeping skills do
not rank up there with Martha Stewart. Labeling the
spice rack is not on my to-do list. Now that I think
about it, my spice list was a comfortably small,
run-of-the-mill composition. The brief categorization
consisted of salt, pepper, garlic, and minced onion. Oh,
did I forget to mention, cooking was not a great skill
of mine either. One of my first home-cooked meals
revolved around boiled meat. The simple recipe thrived
on throwing a piece of meat in the skillet and adding
water.
No wonder cleaning the refrigerator
was such a task, I had to revisit all those home-cooked
meals again.
My second home was in Arkansas. Of
course, when they could, my parents or mom would visit.
On rare occasions my mom would get a gang together and
drive to see us from West Virginia. My mom off-handedly
offered, during one of these short stays, a cheerful
retort, "Your refrigerator is cleaned up." Like it was
an event that needed emphasized.. (Joyce finally washed
out the ice box.)
Actually, amid my clueless state of
mind, I hadn’t realized my refrigerator had been so
neglected. It was like you have food between your teeth
and no one says a word.
Although my refrigerator cleaning had
not improved by then, my cooking had. In Arkansas there
were fresh peaches and berries and a mother-in-law close
by. In advance of family visitors I would prepare
home-made peach pies ready for baking. During this time
I also turned my attention to my mother-in-law’s
delicious cooking. Under her wing my skills improved. I
was very careful in my observations; I didn’t want her
to know I had no idea what I was doing in the kitchen.
Over the years, unfortunately, my
lack of attention for the refrigerator has not changed.
I cleaned it yesterday, top to bottom, only because once
starting the project I didn’t want to stop until it was
finished.
These days refrigerators have glass
shelves, much easier to wash. Also, my ice box is a
side-by-side. On the freezer side, I pulled out the
bottom plastic box and just cannot get it back on the
hooks or whatever it hangs on. Several hours have been
devoted to the cause, so I let it rest on the bottom of
the freezer.
My excuse for not being a faithful
refrigerator washer is the mechanics. What I take out I
can’t get back in. A pan of potatoes ready for peeling
beats a dirty refrigerator ready for cleaning any day,
regardless what state it’s in.