The job was on my radar and had been for some time. I can't remember the last time I've actually taken things apart (shelves, drawers) to scrub it all down properly—don't judge me. Part of it was sheer apprehension at what green and fuzzy thing might be living in the back of the refrigerator. The other part, well, that was pure, unadulterated sloth.

I put dinner in the oven (it needed an hour), and I got to work. I pulled out all sorts of treasures from the dark unknown of the back refrigerator corner. There was the sticky, almost empty jar of jam that was pretty much adhered to the shelf; about five bottles of bleu cheese dressing because we use it for one recipe and buy a new bottle every time we make the dish; and the chocolate syrup that expired in 2008.

I wasn't all that surprised about the syrup. I do not have a huge sweet tooth, and in any case I've never liked chocolate syrup. I'm pretty sure that bottle predated my presence in Nick's life. Still, it was interesting/sad that we had a bottle of something that has been unfit to eat for three (almost four) years taking up real estate in our cramped refrigerator.

It was cathartic purging the waste, but then, I'm a thrower. This might be the biggest clash that Nick and I have. He saves everything, but I see no reason to keep something if it isn't of use to me. You can be assured that I will never be a hoarder!

After everything was shiny and reassembled, I called Nick in for dinner. He opened the door and just stared. I assumed it was appreciation that kept him glued there, appreciation for the comely sparkle that I swear came complete with the ting of a tiny bell. Who wouldn't be awestruck? Clouds part and angels sing for refrigerator shelves with that kind of gleam.

I was just so happy to have it clean and organized. I couldn't wait for the joy to break through the reverence so that he would share in my glee. He stood there for another minute or so before looking up at me. He looked pouty instead of joyful.

"Uh. Where's our stuff?"

He meant the expired, cruddy stuff that no living being should consume—the stuff that has no use and that I gladly throw. I think he was joking when he asked his question, but I've heard that 50% of all jokes are based in truth. A vision of a home with garbage and empty condiment containers stacked every which way popped into my head. I'm going to have to keep an eye on that boy.