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  <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2011-12-28:1307858</id>
  <title>elbales</title>
  <subtitle>elbales</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>elbales</name>
  </author>
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  <updated>2015-09-21T05:50:43Z</updated>
  <dw:journal username="elbales" type="personal"/>
  <entry>
    <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2011-12-28:1307858:300533</id>
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    <title>Adventures in Cleaning</title>
    <published>2015-09-21T05:50:43Z</published>
    <updated>2015-09-21T05:50:43Z</updated>
    <category term="humor"/>
    <category term="cleaning"/>
    <category term="daily life"/>
    <dw:mood>accomplished</dw:mood>
    <dw:security>public</dw:security>
    <dw:reply-count>0</dw:reply-count>
    <content type="html">So on Saturday, Hardi went to hang with our gaming group, and I stayed home because — not that I've mentioned it in any of my online spaces — I'm still hoarse and coughing from a cold that I came down with on the 11th. (People, it is the 20th. Colds suck.) I was home by myself, and I seized the chance to do things that I wanted to do: one episode of &lt;i&gt;Sense8&lt;/i&gt;, some kitchen puttering, some trying on and winnowing of clothing, and even hemming up a pair of trousers. By the time Hardi got home around 6, I had two chicken breasts poaching with some veg and lots of herbs and was quick-soaking some beans. So, you know, it was a pretty damn awesome day. I like puttering, and I like decluttering my closet and cupboards, and it's always nice having a kitchen that's better organized and tidier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, one of the things that turned up in the shuffle was Hardi's ancient Thermos. I think he already had it when we got married, or maybe he bought it soon after (there might have been a Thermos I dropped? Maybe?), and it's been sitting forgotten on top of a cupboard since we moved to this apartment more than 10 years ago. Dismaying! The outside was super filthy and I didn't want to store it dirty because gross. I tried getting it open, but it was stuck, so I shrugged and set it by the sink for cleaning later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later came this evening, after Hardi made himself a big batch of stroganoff to take for lunches this week. (People, I cleaned the heck out of that kitchen. The cutting board, which whiffs strongly of garlic, got a vinegar wipe and is now sitting covered in coarse sea salt until tomorrow, when I will procure a lemon and use it as a scrubber.) The Thermos was last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still wearing my rubber gloves, I took it into his room and asked, "Could you please open this?" It took a bit — it was really stuck — but he got the lid, which is one of those old-school detachable cups, to come loose. He handed it to me, and I caught a whiff of something. "Ghost of chocolate past?" I said, and watched as he started turning the stopper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a hiss of escaping... something... and my eyes got big. Hardi's eyebrow did the Spock thing. We stared at each other for a sec before he set to again. He got it open and turned it to the lamp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yep," he said. "Chocolate." And he loosely set the stopper on the jug and handed it back to to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What an amazing new smell you've discovered," I said as I turned to go back to the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I cleaned the heck out of that Thermos, too. There was some soaking first, you betcha. Gah.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=elbales&amp;ditemid=300533" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/&gt; comments</content>
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