This post may not be a particularly helpful one. I expect most of you already know how to clean your own fridge. I do, however, hope it’s an entertaining one. You see, cleaning the fridge is possibly my least favorite chore. I had been putting it off, and Monday night the fridge fought back.
The Mr. was out of town on a business trip Monday night, and I was fairly well exhausted after single-parenting the still-cranky from hand, foot and mouth little man into bed. I had hunkered down at the computer to browse Pinterest and had only roused myself to get my just washed curtains out of the dryer by promising myself a bowl of ice cream once they were hung back up.
The curtains got re-hung, but the ice cream was, well, just cream. Never a good sign.
I called the Mr. to let him know he’d best start pricing either new fridges or handymen and began loading food into a laundry basket. Thank god we have an extra fridge in the basement. I was also thankful that I had implemented a system similar to my pantry system
in the fridge for a good portion of our hundreds of condiments. Loading tupperwares full of sauces into the basket and moving them took far less time than having to grab each individual bottle.
As it was, the process took me until midnight. That was not what I wanted to be doing at midnight on a weeknight. I collapsed into bed and was asleep immediately.
The next morning I took a good look at my sadly neglected refrigerator and decided that there was no way I was letting anybody see it in that shape. Obviously anybody who fixes fridges for a living would judge me on how perfectly clean it was when it went kerplewie, right? So I started cleaning.
Remember how I said earlier that cleaning the fridge is one of my least favorite chores? Uh…yeah…that may have been putting it rather mildly. I’m a lot like a cat in that I hate loud noises and getting my
fur clothing wet. Vacuuming? UGH. Anything where I’m going to splash myself? Double ugh. Cleaning the fridge brings the best of both worlds, WOO!!
So basically the whole ordeal went like this:
Glare at the fridge.
Realize glaring at the fridge isn’t going to get it clean. Put on elbow length dish gloves.
Wrinkle nose in distaste while removing shelves from fridge door. Toddler juice spills are sticky!
Wash fridge door shelves. Splash self with dishwater. Restrain self from swearing in front of G.
Get G juice. Ask him to stop trying to throw his toys in the sink full of soapy water.
Continue washing fridge door shelves and butter tray cover. Fill the dish drainer and search for place to put more soaking wet fridge parts.
Wipe down fridge door.
Ask G to stop trying to push me into the refrigerator.
Continue wiping down fridge door.
Ask G to stop using his giant plastic car to try and hit and run me into the refrigerator.
Try to continue wiping down fridge door. Fight urge to scream “BACK OFF” at still-trying-to-jam-me-into-the-fridge G.
Reassemble fridge door.
Make G toast.
Soak sock in puddle of water on the floor from washing fridge door shelves.
Argue with G about if he should be putting things down the heating vents or not.
Make G more toast.
Remove shelves and drawers from inside fridge.
Wash out most offensive drawer. Soak myself, G and half the kitchen trying to rinse the soap off of said drawer. Muffle swearing so it’s not understandable to G.
Send angry text to Mr. about how much I hate cleaning fridges.
Wonder what unidentifiable sludge in second most offensive drawer is. Curse Mr. for his love of gooey condiments.
Ask G to stop balancing on top of his snack cup (while attempting to wash second most offensive drawer).
Physically remove G from on top of his snack cup.
Attempt to ignore G’s tantrum while continuing to scrub second most offensive drawer.
Splash self with water. Grind teeth.
Direct G to the living room and tell him that for his own safety, he MUST stay there and play.
Wipe down most of the inside of the fridge before he returns and attempts to shove me into the fridge, again. Scream (just a little).
Get G a Monkey Bar
(btw parents, these things are amazing).
Finish washing shelves and drawers for fridge. Turn around just in time to see G grabbing the water hose in the fridge back. He yells “DIS IS FOR TRACTOR!!” Move like lightning to keep him from yanking it out.
Reassemble fridge drawers and shelves and reinsert them in the exact right order. (Fail at least twice).
Change the Pandora station to keep G from hemorrhaging something while screaming “NOT DIS SONG!!”
Entertain the thought that it may actually be Mr.’s fault that I’m having to do this. Obviously he planned to be out of t
own when the fridge died.
Decide he’s cute enough I’ll let it go and not stab him. This time.
Remove shelves from freezer door.
Stop G from licking crumbs off freezer door.
Curse, loudly, when G finds a hidden, open, thawed icy pop and flings it across the kitchen. Wonder wtf open freezey pops are doing in our freezer anyhow. Are they booby traps?
Wash down freezer shelves.
Sing “Old Mac Donald had a Farm” while scrubbing freezer bottom, because it’s the only thing that keeps G happy enough he doesn’t try and climb onto me like I’m a disgruntled pony.
Remove bottom vent guard and gasp in horror.
Allow G to ineffectually slam his tiny vacuum-shaped dust-buster into the bottom of the fridge. Meanwhile wash the vent guard.
Continue washing the dust guard, dripping water all over the counter, the floor and yourself.
Further texts with Mr regarding arranging a handyman.
Question how many cats I actually have that there is this much fur in the vent guard. Decide there must have been a small family of squirrels living in the crisper drawer for a period. It’s the only thing that explains it.
Wipe down surrounding muck around exposed vents.
Assure G that he will be able to “keep vacuumin’ buggies!” next time we remove the vent guard so he’ll stop crying.
Reassemble freezer and vent guard.
Attempt to convince the by now exceptionally belligerent toddler to eat his lunch. Swear at jar of peanut butter.
Text Mr. threatening to burn the “broken fridge, ugly paint, stupid cooking, leaky sink” kitchen to the ground.
Receive text from Mr. suggesting that maybe it’s worth us just getting a new fridge.