Refrigerator Jenga
The covid crisis has brought more perils to the everyday person than originally imagined. Not so much health wise, but certainly refrigerator wise. For the first time, we are mostly on our own for meals. More cooking means the need for ingredients. The refrigerator is one place we store our ingredients.
Refrigerators nationwide are becoming filled to the brim with various fixings for weeks worth of meals. This has not diminished our need for beverage and snack storage in the least. Storage space has not increased, hence the need for “refrigerator jenga”. The gentle art of removing one item so as not to end up with anything on the floor. As you will always need the one thing that will be residing the back of the shelf, and an artful dance occurs between you and the contents of the fridge.
To win this game, you need to reappear from the bowels of the icebox with the desired product in hand, and there are no other casualties. Today, in order to make a meatloaf, I found myself having to dodge several condiments, beverages and a bag of hard boiled eggs. Unfortunately for me, I came out of the game as a loser when a jar of horseradish plunged to its splintery death. Not only was my penalty to clean up the ensuing mess, but to smell horseradish all over the house for some time.
Generally, I buy plastic containers for this reason. Sometimes it helps. Other times the container hits the sweet spot and shatters like a fun house mirror as it makes it dramatic two foot leap to earth. Anyway you look at it, the challenge is there.
I have tried to combat the intricate stacking of product by “organizing” my refrigerator. Labeled plastic bins and careful arrangement of items lead to, as my hubby called it, the “Wawa look”. It lasted two weeks tops. Fresh veggies began to spill over into the designated beer area as I sought healthy options for side dishes. After all eating at home should be healthier and weight loss would follow. The jury is still out on the one. Many folks are referring to the covid 19 as the number of pounds gained by sitting at home waiting for the the barbers and hairdressers to once again man their stations and save us from our locks.
But that’s a whole “nuther” story.
At the end of the adventure, in spite of my loss, the meatloaf got made.
I’m going in for the side dishes. Pray for me.