My refrigerator is taunting me.
I need to clean it out. But, I am afraid to.
I don't know what is in some of the bowls in my fridge. It is not that I have forgotten what I put in them; it is that I cannot recognize them, regardless of the taxonomy I employ to identify them.
And... there is an odour. A smell. An ambience associated with my refrigerator. It is as if my fridge were in heat, and it was sending out its pherenomes across the ether in a vain attempt to attract other refrigerators so as to commingle, knock boots, procreate, to form other, baby fridges that smell bad.
I have to clean out my fridge. Right after I wash my dishes.
Soon. Very soon.