After the heaviness of Heartlight, I thought it might do my soul good to follow with something a wee bit more lighthearted.
Frank has a knack for leaving purchased items packed in the plastic shopping bags that the bagger put them in during checkout. Here's the thing – he will put the items away in their proper places, but will not unbag them first. Loaves of bread are placed on top of the fridge in the bag. Packages of chicken, roasts, pork chops, and other meats are placed in the chest freezer in the bags. Boxes of mac & cheese, Rice-a-Roni (the San Franciscooooooo treat!) and various other side dishes are placed on the pantry shelves in the freakin' bags. Windex, lemon-scented Pledge, Pine-Sol, and other cleaners are left in the cabinet under the kitchen sink, still in the plastic grocery bags. Two hazards for the price of one! BONUS!
On Saturday while Frank was at class (sucks to be him, with a class on Saturday mornings!), I went on a cleaning rampage. Heavy cleaning may not sound like a noteworthy event, but in my case, I assure you that it is. My impulse to go on a cleaning dervish comes less often than a total solar eclipse on February 29th, so when it happens people usually just stand back and watch with their mouths agape in awed wonderment and take pictures that they later caption I WUZ HERE. It was those damned plastic bags which set this one off.
Intending to make tuna sandwiches and French fries for lunch, I went to the refrigerator for a few eggs to boil. 18 Grade A extra large eggs. On the shelf. In the yellow, squeaky, Styrofoam container. In a plastic bag with KROGER stamped in blue on the side. It was sitting right next to the Miracle Whip, which was in a bag of its own. I growled a little and may have paired Frank's name with a choice curse word under my breath. Then I proceeded to the freezer to get the fries. I don't have to tell you what I found there.
Have you ever watched that show Snapped, the documentary-type show which chronicles when women do just that and KILL someone, usually a husband or significant other who has pissed them off that one. last. time? Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I heard it — that little *snap* — and instead of plotting murder, the result was the cleaning dervish.
I cleared all the bags from the two freezers in the garage: the chest freezer (where the meats are stored), then from the standing freezer (where all the other frozen stuff is stored), then from the freezer half of the fridge in the kitchen (where the important stuff like ice cream is stored). Eleven total among the freezers (I know this, because the mania sparked a sort of OCD drive to count how many effin' bags I found). Then that rolled into wondering how many more bags I'd find between the cabinet under the sink and the pantry (7 more) which – hey! While I'm in the pantry, I might as well throw out anything that's expired or stale or that we'll never get around to eating, anyway. And since I'm clearing out the pantry, I may as well clear out the fridge and give that a good scrubbing, and since I'm throwing out expired stuff, I may as well go through the medicine cabinet and throw out all the old meds. And here is the lotion I've been looking for, but it belongs in the bathroom and dude — is that pee on the floor next to the kids' tub? I'd better go get the bathroom cleaner and get to work in here and look! — there's no toilet paper in here…I'd better go get some from the linen closet in the hall and damn! — it 's a mess in here so I should refold these towels….
Frank got home and the house sparkled and smelled like lemons.
His eyes widened in amazement, and then he checked the calendar to see if it was a leap year.
"I got you something," he said, with the prideful excitement of a child who is about to give his mom the painting he made in art.
"Oh, yeah?" I said, perking up in anticipation for my prize. "Is it something really important, like something with a lot of sugar and fat and calories to recharge me after that cleaning rampage I just got finished with?"
"We're in each others' minds again — I stopped and Baskin-Robbins and got you some jamocha almond fudge ice cream! I know it's your fave." He threw an air-kiss in my direction, then put the pint of ice cream in the freezer.
In. the flippin'. bag.
I took the bag, jumped on Frank's back like a rabid Outbreak monkey, and suffocated my husband.
He had it comin'.*
TV producers will be calling at any moment to book me for an episode of Snapped.
So tell…what are some of your pet peeves?
*The first person to comment with the reference to the allusion and a list of at least three (more are welcome) of your peeves gets a free dozen of Frank's Big Ones (which will not be sent in a plastic grocery bag). Your peeves can be directly related to your significant other or any peeve in general.
Plastic bags in my freezer are perfect only if they contain husband-saving ice cream. Other Perfect Moment Mondays can be found at Weebles Wobblog.