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Adventures in Cleaning
Sep. 20th, 2015 10:32 pmSo 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 Sense8, 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"Yep," he said. "Chocolate." And he loosely set the stopper on the jug and handed it back to to me.
"What an amazing new smell you've discovered," I said as I turned to go back to the kitchen.
(I cleaned the heck out of that Thermos, too. There was some soaking first, you betcha. Gah.)
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.
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.
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.
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.
"Yep," he said. "Chocolate." And he loosely set the stopper on the jug and handed it back to to me.
"What an amazing new smell you've discovered," I said as I turned to go back to the kitchen.
(I cleaned the heck out of that Thermos, too. There was some soaking first, you betcha. Gah.)
