Last week I cleaned out the fridge, wipe wipe wipe. Being energy conscious I turned to dial to off before I transported all the food to the counter, propped open the door and began scrubbing *hallelujah* . I chuck the expired and sometimes fuzzy food, then wiped down each jar and bottle before placing it back in the fridge with an eye for the interior design, food feng shui .
48 hours later Clark is hollering with great sadness from the kitchen. His popsicles are melted. And the bloodworms I keep for the frogs. The bananas I keep frozen for smoothies are sugary fragrant. I forgot to turn the fridge back on. Drat me.
One thing about Clark you might not know, he is a popsicle eating dynamo. He prefers the sugar-free popsicles he says because you can eat them all night and not get a stomach ache. This might not be of concern to a popsicle amatuer but Clark eats popsicles by the case. More often then not he tastes like a grape when I kiss him.
As often, I come home to find him in the middle of a popsicle bacchanalia with the heat cranked up to 90 degrees, bare feet and short sleeves. And unrepentant.
The gas bill came today... so besides the pool of worm blood in the freezer there are other hells to pay. Still, I swear, I didn't do it on purpose.
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