tales from my domesticated existence
pre-script - I have two important and dear to me drafts ready to be edited and then published. But I wrote about this and published it instead. Please don't hesitate, go ahead and question my priorities as I am questioning my entire existence right now.
Are you a ritual person? I am into specific rituals. For eg. the way I eat my idli, chutney, and sambhar. Everything separate. Idli - chutney first then a sip of sambar or idli-sambar first and then a bit of chutney. Never everything together or never idli dunked in sambar.
I do something similar every day when I come back home after work. I smell the house. The house smells of wood on damp, humid days, owing to the wooden furniture. It smells of whatever Aai is cooking for evening snacks on other days. The smells tell me of what the home experienced that day. The things I missed out on. (I live in constant #fomo from this home).
Today as I entered my home, I almost choked on the repugnant smell of something rotten. It smelled of death. When I had left home earlier today, it smelled of Limbu scented Lyzol (Surekha tai had mopped the floor you see). What had happened in the 8 hours when no one was around? I immediately started investigating. I opened the windows and switched on all ceiling fans. Opened all drawers and smelled every corner to check where the smell was coming from. It wasn't everywhere. It was at its extreme worst in few places and in other places it did not exist. After confirming that there was nothing dead in the house, I focused my search around an object which I knew could have been the source. You see, every culprit, in this case, yours truly, knows when they have messed something.
Flashback time. Remember this story from a few years ago? So I got a fridge. Because I did not need a big, clunky one and wanted something I could single-handedly move in case of emergencies, I bought a single door fridge. Fun fact - These are not automatic refrigerators i.e. you need to manually defrost these from time to time. Meaning once a week or once every 15 days. The extra liquid gets accumulated in the plastic tank located at the back of the fridge. The water usually evaporates on its own. Once in a while, you need to remove the water tank and clean it. If you are me, you trust the machine, science, and nature to do its part and just push the defrost button every once in a blood moon. In this case, let's say whenever whimsy strikes. Yes, despite this -->
A smart reader may have guessed where this story goes next. Please wait. More recent flashback. I was discussing fridge defrosting with a friend the other day (2-3 weeks ago) when I realized I had not defrosted mine for as long as I could remember. So I promptly defrosted it. Mothership announced after an hour that she had kept a new pack of Amul ice cream in the freezer earlier that day. Holy shit! I darted to the fridge, removed the now soggy pack and immediately put it inside another container. I inspected the freezer, no damage was done. Phew. Parents did not miss a chance to annoy me with how I needed to be careful and how that could have created unnecessary cleaning work. I told them to relax because catastrophe had been averted.
Until today. Apparently, some of the ice-cream from that day's defrosting session had found its way to the collection tank. Gross, right? Please save your judgment for the next part where things get more disgusting. Today, when I switched off the fridge and 'single-handedly' (very important) moved it, the sight that waited for me made me double over multiple times. I found cleaning gloves and a screwdriver and carefully detached the tank. Threw whatever debris was floating in it in the sink. Choked some more on the putrid smell. Then got to cleaning it. Also took a break and got whatever perfumes I have and sprayed them around to save myself more death. After an hour-long cleaning session, when I was sure about 'no smell' I put the tank back in place. Then moved the fridge back to its original place. Switched it on and life resumed its uneventful course.
Did I tell you btw that I had tried to reach home early today, in order to give my tired and sore muscles (from running and strength training) some rest? Instead I ended up doing this stupid cleaning. Also, called up parents to hear their kind and well-meaning 'I told you so' expressions. Moral of the story is - 'Moving the fridge on sore quads can make you whimper. '
Have better morals in my head, but shall keep them to myself.