In our new series Writers’ Fridges, we bring you snapshots of the abyss that writers stare into most frequently: their refrigerators.
You are catching my fridge on a well-stocked day, and it still looks like where hope goes to die.
Starting at the top, you’ll see the shelf is being colonized by sweaters. This is because all the cedar balls in the world won’t rid me of the pesky moth problem that came with my apartment. A few years ago, the Internet told me the only solution was to store my sweaters in the freezer. This I have done … but there’s some spillover to the fridge. If I was a bigger garlic person, this might be a problem. But you’ll be relieved to know I smell okay. To the left are, quite obviously, eggs. And to the left of those … I don’t know what that is. “Can you keep a secret? So can I!” says the take-out box. Read More