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I really hate our refrigerator, but it's new so I'm stuck with it. A lot of thought went into its purchase. It was cute and that's why I settled on the black monster.
Several years ago when we remodeled our kitchen we bought all new appliances. We wanted a side-by-side refrigerator with an icemaker and plenty of cubic space. I wanted one that didn't look like an ugly box and loved the one we found because the front is rounded, and it looks like it has pleats in the door.
The refrigerator might look hip, but it's possessed. The frig shoots out ice cubes with amazing velocity, and they bounce off the wood floor, breaking into pieces that scatter like mercury from one of those old thermometers. You really need a suit of armor to prevent serious injury from this manic icemaker.
I hated to lie down in front of it, feeling I might be victimized, but there was no other way I could slide the bins back into place. That done, the self-cleaning ovens were next on the list.
"Self-cleaning" is a misnomer. To begin the self-cleaning process, we had to locate the manual for the ovens, which is a feat in itself because I have a number of catchall drawers. Fortunately, I have a husband who can find anything I put in a safe place. Once again he rose to the challenge, simultaneously reminding me that the last time we switched the ovens to self-clean they emitted such terrible fumes we were forced to stop the process.
"We'll just open all the windows," I said. He headed downstairs, and I began the search for the screens that go in the windows over the sink. I went right to them because they don't fit in a drawer. Three hours later, you could actually see through the glass oven doors, and the inside of the ovens looked good too. Of course there were lots of spots that still required scrubbing with an SOS pad - see what I mean about self-cleaning?
While the ovens were burning the apple and rhubarb pie juices away from their insides, I started on the pantry. The sliding doors had been open when I walked past. I imagined my guests in the kitchen seeing the disorganized mess inside, cereal boxes and crackers cartons mixed in with expired cans of chipotle peppers and three full bottles of Karo syrup - enough to last me until I'm well over 100.
The pantry isn't finished yet. I'll get to it on Thursday because I won't have a car all day. It's being detailed. You can't put a dirty car in a clean garage, another to-do once the kitchen's shipshape.
Like I said, I'm building Rome . . . and Venice . . . and Florence - company's coming. Ê
