Good Morning.
You are what you eat until you aren't because you ate something from the fridge that should have been pitched. As for my own situation, I choose to believe that the interior of my fridge looks like a painting; the food itself may be appropriate subjects for Andy Warhol, but the freshness or lack thereof is more abstract. Frozen is better in the latter regard, but there are challenges with storage. I have a side-by-side refrigerator with a freezer section so narrow I can't fit a large pizza even if I tip it catty-wompers on its side. I keep vegetables in one bin and packages of meat in another, but that means hamburger and pork chops; it does not mean a 15 pound turkey. I keep a big tub of ice cream in the lowest bin with a bag of shrimp and hope the flavors ignore each other. There are a few stray peas that found their way down there even though I close my bags with office clips, some of them anyway.
Moving right along, the fatter side of my fridge works out better, but it looks like a train wreck. At the moment I have three kinds of mustard in the door, ketchup standing on its head, mayonnaise, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco, orange marmalade, olives, liquid smoke, horseradish, Ranch dressing, and lemon juice. In the lowest section of the door I have a bottle of white wine leftover from Christmas, a jug of tomato juice that is no longer safe to consume, and a quart of skim milk that seems a bit silly considering that I also have four boxes of Girl Scout cookies. I always order the thin mints, although they had a
lemon a few years back that I liked quite a lot.
On the top shelf in the fat side there are nine bottles of German beer for my son-in-law and a dozen cans of a generic
form of lemon and lime soda. There is no bottled water because the only time I drink anything healthy is to take my medications and tap water will suffice. I have three loaves of bread, all of them opened, a package of English muffins, and a container of cream cheese that appears to be edible. In one drawer there's some deli ham and a half-gone package of bacon that is sitting on a bed of shredded cheddar cheese that somehow came loose from an envelope with a top that was supposed to reseal but did not. In another drawer I have the remains of a bag of cranberries I used for outdoor holiday decor on my front courtyard; I put greens and pine cones on all my summer pots, scattered a bunch of cranberries on them for a little seasonal color, and topped each arrangement with a lantern containing a candle. Then it snowed like almighty hello and buried everything up to the wicks. I suppose I should do something about this stuff before Easter.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
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