Mars and Venus in the Ice Box

Today's entry deals with men and women and machines.  That is Mars and Venus and the Ice Box!!
This morning broke clear and warm with spiders in the grapenuts and stinky cheese in the frig.  Well, any girl knows that you first eat the spiders and clean up the grapenuts then tackle the stinky cheese in the frig.
Grapenuts and pumpkin yogurt down, spiders banished, exercise and two cups of coffee, then don the tennies and sweat my way through cleaning the frig.
Since retirement, I have been better at throwing away old stuff that smells, so this came as quite a shock to me.
First, I wrapped up the smelly cauliflower...Not it..
Then, I tackled the smelly cheese locker...nothing there.
So....I had to begin the begine...
One shelf cleared.  Old potatoes and meat gone!
Found year old sour-crout...gone
Still the smell, damn.
Sink full of suds and systematic attack on the shelves.
What no baking soda???
that would have bought me a few more hours of stinkless peace.
Alas, the smell permeates the kitchen and I begin to dismantle the frig.
Three shelves emptied, dates checked, like condiments in different areas of the kitchen.
And, the man o' the house arrives to save the day.
I just want to say that men and women attack this differently.  There were alot of comments, meant to be helpful, that came at me quickly, such as:
"Don't shove that, that won't fit like that, ever thought of finding the manual, let me handle that for you..."  You get the picture.  We who have cleaned out refrigerators before know there is a slow and systematic way of doing this.
You men who swoop in to help don't know about this unwritten code.  However, since we both need to fill our day and the frig. still stinks, I allow Oh Holy One to help!!
By now I have washed six side shelves, three slide-ins, organized the condiments, milk, cheese, yogurt, pickles, catsup, etc.
Left-brain asked how he can be of assistance.  I say, butt in air and head in crisper, please dry those things and I'll start putting them back in.  Not specific enough.  Butt does not see that sweet babboo is not drying the shelves, but the milk, condiments, flaxmeal and yogurt I set on the counters.
No more counters to wash and dry more shelves.  YIKES!!
I once again am a "Placid pool of tranquility', 'OM, OM, OM,'  sigh,  "No sweetie, the food doesn't need drying, the shelves do.' Small laugh and back again.
Well, here is where I am foist on my own petard!  Women, and me too, have spent years telling our men that they need to pick up a quart of milk and come straight home.  No beers on the way, the milk, eggs, whatever will spoil.  We girls all know that you could go to the mall, out to lunch and take a yoga class before those things would go bad, but we want them now, and no falderoll stopping for a brewsky allowed.
Bad, when you need time to clean properly.  Man thinks that spoilage is imminent...ala beer warnings.  So, he hurries me up and we end up with every part of the refrigerator strewn from backyard to front.  I'm confused, where did that shelf go, where did this part fit....I'm not used to being helped and or rushed with this tedious job.
Once again, I suggest drying the component parts.  That is heard as: "Why don't you take the honda out for a spin" if you run out of gas I'll come pick you up."
Two shelves returned, honda purring, dry, dry, hose, hose...What I hear the hose.  Babboo is washing, ne.. scrubbing the frig innards and watering my precious plants at the same time.
Glory be, we might just get this done today.
We are close and no huge fight yet, my stars are in alignment, but my shelves are not.  I demure:  "Why don't you put those together, you have such a good sense of space and those bulging muscles are good for something, right?"
"This catsup is too tall, yogurt is too short, throw that shit away and I can maybe put this sucker together."
Years of mars and venus, give and take, you and me babe come to the rescue and I sweetly say, "Have you tried this beer from Weed (Microbrew from Weed, CA.-not what you think)?; You need to try it now!!"  One growler later, my shelves are set, my preserves are preserved, my dignity and frig are in tact and other than my lost growler, I am no worse for the wear.
Just another day in paradise and retirement for two,  We survived and did real well.  Chardonnay anyone, we've earned it.