My Freezer

fridge-800pxMy freezer is a big white box that purrs quietly in the back of our garage.

I think of it as a museum of culinary failures and a hiding place for all things Tupperware.

I avoid it whenever I can.

On those rare occasions when I am required to dive into its frozen depths, I put on warm gloves, a thick parka (even in July) and tell someone where I am going and when I plan to be back.

This is because digging through all the things  in the freezer that I do not want – in order to find the things I do – is a laborious task and very risky business.

Recently my wife sent me out there for a pound of hamburger.

I began by removing items from the freezer and piling them on the concrete.  I figured that by methodically emptying the freezer, sooner or later a pound of hamburger would emerge.

First I removed a layer of plastic yogurt containers. Each held a quart of soup or stew that was so appalling, we chose to freeze it rather than eat it.

Next came bake sale items purchased out of social obligation at charity fund raisers (the good stuff never made it home).

Under that lay the discount items from the Quicke-Mart. These were less appealing than the soup or stew – but price always trumps taste.

Another row down, I found the ice-cream that the grandchildren refused to eat (think about what it takes for ice-cream to be rejected by a child).

Below that appeared a seam of good intentions.

And lastly came the steaks, roasts, ribs and hams that came from the various deals we got by buying a quarter of a quarter of a quarter of some extremely large animal. Granted the meat was delicious – but we never knew we had it because there was so much stuff on top of it.

It is where I found the hamburger.

Back in the kitchen, I complained about this sad state of affairs.

“I don’t even know what most of that stuff is,” I complained.

“Well, if you would label and date it, you would know…   Wouldn’t you?”

Standing right there in the kitchen, a light bulb came on. It was one of those incandescent bulbs that you only see in cartoons because the EPA won’t let you buy them – but a bulb like that, glowing over your head means you just had a fabulous idea.

My wife is a fanatic about freshness dates.  She checks the dates on everything.  She even checks for dates on bottled water.

So I stealthy pocketed a marker pen and snuck it out to the garage where I labeled and dated every container I found in the freezer.

When I was done, I yelled, “Hey hon, you might want to check some of this stuff. The dates are kinda old.”

An eerie silence engulfed the kitchen – then there she was, arms folded, framed by the garage door.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said, “did you back-date the containers in the freezer?”

“I did,” I told her, “ but I honestly couldn’t tell you which ones.”

So I got to throw them all out.

Author: Almost Iowa

32 thoughts on “My Freezer”

  1. I used to have one of them light bulbs come on over my head from time to time. Then I forgot to pay the power bill. Not sure why that happened. Maybe that’s what happens when you stand too close to the light bulb above your head. Then maybe my brain melted, or at least the part that remembered to pay the power bill. Now I am in the dark. Haven’t been inspired in a month of Sundays. The moral of this is be careful. You don’t want to get too close to that light bulb.

  2. My folks had a huge chest freezer, down in the basement. After Dad died in 1981, Mom ate it empty, and there it sat. Finally, she unplugged it. Then, she realized that it would make a perfect storage place for her yarn stash. She began filling it up, until there wasn’t room for more yarn.

    Then, I’d get requests like this: “Honey, go down to the freezer and see if you can find me some of that nice yellow like I made your sweater out of.” Back-dating wouldn’t have helped me, I’m afraid. And when she finally moved? It all went into plastic bins, that I tended through decades. There’s still one bin left in my closet, just for old times’ sake.

  3. I honestly think this might be your best post yet, and that’s saying something. It also gave me a terrific idea for how to get my mother to part with some of the stuff that been in her freezer for as long as I can remember. (She takes it along when she moves house.)

  4. And a marker for the win!
    I’m still pondering ice cream rejected by children. My parents bought soy ice cream once that the kids wouldn’t touch. Maybe it was that.

  5. I can relate to digging in the freezer and through stuff hubby makes me save that I would throw out – and do – eventually! 🙂

  6. Our freezer is in a side by side, which the wife is fortunately in charge off. She’s the one that files the stuff, and on top of the usual packaging everything gets double wrapped in a plastic bag making it doubly difficult to decipher. Having only a dim understanding of the filing system I find it’s much quicker to let her dig stuff out. Of course, if it was a freezer chest in the garage…

  7. Good job on emptying the freezer and dodging tat organizational responsibility. We don’t have a freezer. I would opt to fill it with stuff I shouldn’t have on the property (ice cream) and it would collect stuff like that drawer in the kitchen.

  8. That’s pretty funny and it also says something about your wife that she knew your game. I do t imagine you get much past her..:)
    At least you can’t admit you do..:)

  9. I can relate to this story. Chest freezer, right? Ours was a wedding gift back in 1982. Still wishing for an upright. I don’t know what’s buried at the bottom. But I do know the freezer needs defrosting.

    My mom had two freezers, filled to the lids. And she lived alone. When she moved from her home in to assisted living, we threw everything. Such a waste of food. But there were no dates and, well, we really didn’t need dates to see the obvious.

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