The Refrigerator

I was alone in the house and anxious, so I cleaned out the refrigerator. I took everything off each shelf, bleached it, and then put things back in the correct place, dumping anything expired. I pulled out the drawers and bleached the area under them. I checked every piece of fruit or vegetable, making sure everything I returned to its place in the refrigerator was something we would eat this week.

I took everything off the outside of the refrigerator and bleached the doors, too. And then I sorted the magnets and lists and photographs into piles. I didn’t need to keep old Bat Mitzvah invitations, a calendar from 2019, or coupons that expired half a decade ago. I threw out the magnets from two different power-washing companies, a school calendar from a real estate agent for a school system we no longer attended, and a jury summons that had already been filled.

I looked through the old meal plans from the pandemic when we would shop once for two weeks, and I had to plot out fresh vegetables for the days after the shop and frozen vegetables for the days close to the end.

And in the end, instead of anxiety, I just felt sad. It’s strange how a cleaning session can do that to you.