I don't know why things like a crusty drawer or a mysteriously sticky shelf in the fridge (that no one else seems to notice or seems to care about), send me over the edge. They just do.
Cleaning out the refrigerator is NOT how I want to spend a vacation day or a precious weekend day. Yet every time I open the fridge, the sight of the refrigerator's interior makes my skin crawl. Maybe I should just stop opening the fridge door which would allow me to not have my nerves raked upon, and possibly allow me to lose some pounds in the process.
It's this repetitive, minor annoyance that finally, upon the 100th time of being mildly annoyed finally causes me to explode into a crazy diatribe about how pissed off I am.
Aren't there four fully functional people living in this house with me, and other than the occasional family gathering, dinner out, or softball game, otherwise at the house pretty much all.the.time. ??
OK, maybe two other fully functional people, plus a 50% (Liam) and a 25% (Owen). Which still brings us to nearly 3 other fully functional people in this house who could take it upon themselves to wipe down a surface or two.
ESPECIALLY before going grocery shopping. Why would you go buy fresh groceries and then put them away in a filthy mess?
I just don't get it.
Nor do I understand why it hurtles me into a raging lunatic where I finally break down and spend the measly 15-20 minutes that it takes to scrub it out.
And in the end, I'm not sure what I'm pissed off about...the sticky shelves or my explosive reaction to them.
(Overflowing trash cans in the bathrooms and bedrooms have the same effect.)
I never said I was perfect. (OK, maybe I said that once or twice, but obviously, I'm not.)