I Do Not Like Housework

I REALLY do not like housework. There, I've said it, so now you all know. On the other hand I really hate dirt. This means that housework - at least that I deem necessary for my physical and mental health - does get done. It also means I'm like a bear with a sore head - not mention sore hands due to arthritis - while I'm doing it. And when something proves hard to clean then I get even crankier.

This means that when something happens as it did over the last few days that I cannot find a solution to, I'm a far from happy little camper.

What was this problem you are no doubt wondering - or not if you find everything about housework, even someone else's, as boring as I do. Well, I will tell you.

A few days ago I noticed an odour in the fridge and, being somewhat compulsive about such things, I took everything out, clearing out everything from the shelves including the freezer compartment, and washed the whole thing out - shelves, vegetable crispers, everything. There was not a spot I missed.  I  found a few smelly items that Pisces had not sealed up properly and moved them to sealed containers and disposed of the surprisingly few past their use by date items I found where someone - whose name is almost certainly Pisces - had pushed them to the back. This is an on-going battle between the two of us since if you push things to the back of the fridge they tend to freeze but apparently it's a step too far to remember not to do it. I then checked and wiped over every container before I put it back and for good measure I put a container of bi-carbonate of soda in on the top shelf to absorb any future odours.

This odour free state has not lasted and by today opening the fridge had reached the 'oh no' stage. So I've just gone through the whole palaver again. I'm hoping this time I've won. If not, well, I do not know what I'll do.