Refridgerator Therapy

Cleaning out the refrigerator does not occur as often as it should in our house.  The fact that I do not know the official guidelines for how often the appliance needs to be cleaned is telling.  I understand that other people routinely strip their refrigerator down and clean it from top to bottom.  I know they exist. Unfortunately, I am well aware that I am not one of them.

In our house, our refrigerator cleaning guidelines are as follows:

A Kneifel family member (Kate) must clean out the refrigerator when:

*Something in there smells like a dead raccoon sucking on a moldy head of garlic.
*Guests are coming over and there is more than a 50% probability that they will either catch a glimpse of the inside of our fridge, or would need to dive into it themselves to retrieve something like a beverage or a piece of fruit.

Despite our clear Kneifel guidelines, the refrigerator most often gets a deep clean when feelings of anxiety start simmering.  In my life, mild anxiety is like an obnoxious toddler, constantly pulling on my pant leg and whining for my attention.  Lucky for me, yanking the innards out of our refrigerator seems to shut it up for an hour or so.   Scrubbing dried barbecue sauce or wiping up the crumbs from last week’s leftovers frees up space in my mind.  Little Miss Anxiety blissfully gives up her diatribe as I return our glass shelves to their pristine pre-Kneifel showroom state.  Once the big shelves are in order, I organize the shelves on the side door of the fridge.  Salad dressings go on the first shelf. I lovingly turn all of the labels so they face the same direction.  Any grocery store manager would be proud of my presentation.  Sauces come next, garlic chili sauce, fish sauce, soy sauce, and barbeque sauces.  Below in the next shelf I place all of the olives and pickles. The bottom shelf houses larger jugs of mayo, ketchup and other less used items.

 I just put all the bottles on the floor while cleaning the sticky shelves. Notice my "Poison Guy" face on the purple bucket.  Anyone remember getting those green stickers in school?

When I am finished, all items have an immaculate new home in our fridge.  I feel like something, of only my condiments have been put in a safe, predictable order.  One tiny aspect of life has been conquered.  I relish the accomplishment.  I imagine Mr. Clean himself would high five this job.  

Anxiety may return and start following me around once again; I expect her arrival in the next few days as Kai’s medical bills start to roll in.  But, rest assured, if a miracle occurs and the fridge is still clean when that happens, I’ve got the kitchen pantry to keep me busy.