I have given the house a thorough searching, and since I have not found Gungnir on my own, I am forced to continue my indentured servitude to the human female. What’s next on the chore list, O Mistress of Grunginess? Clean the refrigerator? Why, of course! I’d be glad to. (In truth, I have a vested interest in whether the fridge is sanitary, as I do occasionally eat things that come out of there, and so does Sigyn. Not much can harm me, but it would not do for her to be felled by some preventable food-borne illness.)
By Odin’s puckered bellybutton! Look at all the nasty bits and pieces around the vegetable bins!
Bleargh! And, might I add, Eew! Wouldn’t it be easier simply to buy a new fridge?
Ehehehehehe. I just now noticed–there’s another one of my peanut butter jars back there!
While I’m in the neighborhood, I think I’ll pop into the bin and slimify some carrots and celery. There’s a fine line between moist and crisp and sludgy-slick. Sometimes all they need is a good nudge.
There. The fridge is much cleaner now. I took everything out, wiped down the walls, de-stickified the shelves, ferried spoiled produce out to the compost heap, and euthanized whatever that furry green thing in the bottom of the cheese drawer was. Time to put all the groceries back in, adding my own special touches. See this juice?
Well, it used to be juice, the 100% juice juice. Bing! Now it is 64 ounces of “juice drink,” which means it tastes like a cross between cough syrup and purple magic marker.
I put the milk back too.
What? No, I did NOT put back an empty jug. I would never do that. It is not empty. There are twelve molecules of milk left in there.