Fridge Posting

Abby, Fridgeposting. Probably.

I recently returned home from a trip to NYC—The City that Doesn’t Zzzz—only to find that in my absence, the cats had taken up Fridgeposting.

What is Fridgeposting, you ask? Fridgeposting is when you leave home for X amount of days, after carefully making plans and preparations, and all necessary arrangements so that life will carry on smoothly in your absence, and you return only to find---but I’m getting ahead of my story.

I like to start my trip preparations by scheduling the cat sitter and then making a list of all the “Must Do/Stop Obsessing/Yes You Unplugged the Iron” items I need to take care of, so I can travel footloose and fancy free. Having a good cat sitter is key, and I’m lucky to have a cat sitter extraordinaire (CSE)--for purposes of this story, let’s call her Eileen. (Hi Eileen!)

After that, I just make a list and check it off: Packed? Check. Kitchen cleaned? Check. Trash emptied? Check. Compost emptied? Check. Iron unplugged? Check. (Just kidding—I don’t iron. I know a wrinkle solving secret that I learned from The Pros. I’m sworn to secrecy, but if you’re really good, Gentle Reader, someday I’ll tell you.) Where was I?

Oh, right—check list: Fridge emptied? Che----uh.

Salad. It's what's for dinner.

See, here’s the thing. I eat a LOT of salad. I mean a lot. And when I left for my trip I still had some fresh green things in my fridge that were too good to throw in the compost but wouldn’t last until my return. To assuage my guilt, I was going to suggest that my CSE Eileen take it all home and feed it to her chickens. The fact that I just Tom-Sawyered my CSE into also cleaning my fridge was completely coincidental.

Or, it WOULD have been—if I would have remembered to tell her. Or even texted her from NYC at some point. Or if my fat, lazy, good-for-nothing cats could have Lassied her into open the fridge. But no—all they wanted from her was more ear rubs.

So, I returned from my adventures only to find that I had successfully composted leftover veggies IN MY REFRIGERATOR, perchance finding a simultaneous cure for cancer, winning first place in the Science Fair and brewing a batch of spinach wine. Spoiler Alert: (“Spoiler”—see what I did there? I’m so punny!) 2019 is NOT a good year for spinach wine, 0/5 stars, do not attempt.

Composting veggies? Check.

 Fridgeposting? Not so much.

Annie would like some ear rubs, please.