Being a fishing enthusiast, if there is one thing I have learned is that my wife does not have any imagination when it comes to our refrigerator. She believes its use if for food and food-related items only. No exceptions! Now, to me, that seems rather narrow-minded; a topic that we have debated more than once. One evening a couple of years ago was a perfect example….
Every hair on my head bolted to attention from the follicles out when I heard the blood-curdling scream come from the kitchen. Knowing whatever happened had to be urgent, I only hesitated long enough to put the movie I was watching on “pause” (hey! it was in a good part!) and then bolted into the kitchen.
Maxine’s glazed eyes were staring at the plastic container on kitchen counter. She pointed at it with a shaking finger. “I was going to make, gasp! myself some…rice, sugar and milk. gasp! But the…the…the rice is…moving!” She then covered her mouth to stifle a quivering cry.
When I saw what the container was, my eyes widened. There was something far more important here than my wife’s possible nerve damage. “You didn’t put any sugar on them did you?”
“Wha…what do you mean on…them?” she replied, with a confused look.
“Those are my maggots for tomorrow’s fishing trip.”
I will admit I did cower somewhat when her confused look quickly changed into something…well, for no better description…scary. What she said next came through tight lips and clenched teeth. “You…put…maggots…in…my…refrigeratorrrrrr!”
“Well,” I replied, giving my best aura of innocence, “you have to remember, they were in a closed container until you opened them. And you don’t want them to turn into flies, do you? That would ruin the whole fishing trip.”
“Turn into….flies in my…refrigeratorrrrr?”
Maxine did not appear to be impressed with my excellent excuses.
“They won’t turn into flies,” I continued with a wave of the hand. “That’s why they were in the refrigerator to begin with. It’s a scientific fact that if kept at a cold temperature maggots won’t hatch into flies. And I certainly can’t put a house fly on my hook, can I?”
“But,” I quickly added, noticing that her face was taking on a strange redness, “I’ll go ahead and put them in the boat now. They’ll probably be fine for tomorrow.”
I couldn’t understand what the big deal was. I mean, looking back, I kind of understood her being upset the time the juices from a skein of salmon eggs I was thawing seeped out of the tinfoil they were wrapped in. I mean I was willing to accepted the blame for that. But the fact that the fish egg juice was the same color as the orange fruit jello it oozed onto…Come on, that was just a terrible coincidence. And like I tried to tell her as she was chewing off large hunks of my posterior, “Those women at your pinnacle club luncheon are such drama queens to begin with. There was absolutely no excuse for them to cause such a big scene over a bowl of fruit jello. So when you finally calm down and think about it, it was actually their fault for your humiliation and embarrassment.” Of course that desperate plea for clemency didn’t work. And as has happened many times before, I accepted my silent and cold shouldered punishment until her fuming had subsided and she deemed probation was due.
Bottom line is now I have my own refrigerator down in the garage. But when we have family over from time to time for a big dinner, Maxine does use my refrigerator for the overflow of food needed. But, like I told her, if you notice the food moving or it has a fishy smell, just remember, it’s not my fault.