I certainly know how to spend a Saturday! After clacking away on the computer for 6 hours, I left school with the intention of going on a run when I returned home. I even changed into my running clothes before leaving school to ensure that the deed would be done. However, during the short ride home I got a massive headache which seemed to intensify when I performed even the most menial of physical exertions (like getting out of the car and unloading the trunk).
With my good intentions spoiled, I did the first thing that I thought might relieve my aches and pains: I downed a glass of white sangria. I made a big batch of it last night, so the dregs of the pitcher were especially well-infused with cheap white and a splash of Christina Brothers brandy.
While fishing the pitcher out of our crammed fridge, I noticed that the shelves on the door were well over full occupancy. Quarter-filled jam jars, countless bottles of aging salad dressing, even a bottle of mango chutney that belonged to my ex-roommate Garrett. Apparently he didn't trouble himself to take it with him when he vacated last October. I began to wonder, "Just how old are all these jars and bottles?"
And thus began my long and thankless evening...
The question had popped into my head many times before - usually at periodic intervals when I had free time. Something always seemed to get in the way of me actually acting on the impulse to purge these shelves. And every year, it seems that new small jars of spicy mustard, olive tapenade, mole sauce, and chutneys are added ad nauseum to the rotting spoils.
Tonight I put all that jar procrastination to and end. This evening I purged no fewer than 25 jars, bottles, and other fetid containers of food stuffs. I decided to empty them in the trash as much as I could before rinsing the contents down the sink. Good idea, considering the age and peculiarities of our plumbing system over here on Grove Street. This strategy, while saving the pipes, also created a dirty bomb of a mixture in the trash can. Towards the end I had to pour nearly 30 ounces of 4 year-old Hershey's syrup on all of it - kind of like a dessert topping for a meal of pungent, intermingling condiments that should really never be mixed together. Under no circumstances whatsoever. The smell was nauseating.
Now the fridge door has an occupancy rate of nearly 40%. I am very proud that I didn't wimp out and just throw all the bottles and jars directly into the trash. My recycling conscience is at least proud. I apologize in advance to the waste management personnel that will take charge of this stinky soup on Tuesday morning. I can't even imagine what this stuff will smell like after three more days in the heat. Aye.