During the holidays we all spend a ton of time together and we discover some pretty interesting things around the house. For example, a member of our family was recently discovered to be royalty.
Generally, this is a house where kids and dogs are clearly in charge — until something goes wrong, then I’m like an entire battalion of Marines who sweeps in for clean-up. But there is, actually, a king of the house.
Well, maybe not the entire house; more like King of the Refrigerator.
My husband, Adam, is renowned for his packing ability. Since he can think in three dimensions, he is in charge of packing for every trip. He has been known to put eight different suitcases in the back of a car where I can only get in three and a half. He also manages to put in everything we could possibly need for a camping trip in our tiny trailer including tool chests, a cordless drill, multiple types of ropes and tie-downs, a hammock, and spares of every conceivable flashlight along with the batteries.
Given these skills, it’s probably not surprising that he is in charge of the refrigerator. After every major grocery run, he dons his royal robe and steps into the kitchen.
Little known fact: every refrigerator sovereign must wear a robe since part of his duties frequently require standing in front of the refrigerator for extended periods of time.
Once the groceries make it inside, the King of the Refrigerator leaps into action. He shifts items around. He moves the new milk to the back. He mutters repeatedly about the sorry state our refrigerator and freezer are in. He begins questioning the expiration date of every item, tossing them on the counter for inspection by we, his minions. We’ll carefully sneak a few items back in after the purge, since often the frenzy of the purge starts to involve things that aren’t expired but things he doesn’t like.
Then he’ll grab mysterious containers that somehow slipped to the very back of the topmost shelf and are filled with leftovers that we swore we could eat and that he swore we wouldn’t.
He will then issue an edict that there are to be no leftovers placed in the refrigerator ever, an edict that will be completely ignored later that evening.
After the ritual cleansing of the old and expired, he will begin to arrange everything inside like one of those rock masons who somehow shape all the crooked rocks into a perfectly formed wall. But uneasy lies the head that wears the refrigerator king crown. In no time at all, we, his doting minions will soon put the short items on the tall item shelf, a CLEAR VIOLATION, requiring him to once again stand in front of the refrigerator in his robe and rearrange AGAIN.
Every refrigerator needs a king, in my opinion. Fortunately, ours maintains his patience with us, mostly because we ply him with fresh cookies and ice-cold milk.