I hate my refrigerator.

The big black side-by-side is narrow and impossible to organize. Containers of caramelized onions and half bottles of ketchup disappear in its depths. This evening my middle son tried to shove his lunchbox between a carton of eggs and the leftover risotto. He stepped back to gain some leverage, eyed his target and aimed deep. I stopped him before he could topple the applesauce. “Put it in the basement,” I said. Continue reading →