While I was recently walking through IKEA, admiring the signs in ersatz-Swedish, my lower back decided to go into one of its intermittent spasms. By the time I got home I was hobbled. So far a bottle of Motrin and a dollop of Ben-Gay have had little efficacy.  It spoiled my evening. I had hoped to do a few things but the psoas muscles are on strike. I was going to clean out the freezers this evening but this now has to wait. I’ve been obliged to sit still and not move, something that doesn’t come easy to me.  On the bright side, I have time to sit and think and compose.

The House of Spo has two freezers. One is the pull-out drawer under the fridge and the other is a standing white cube-shaped type. Both are full up with tupperware and freezer bags of dubious nature and  unrecognized objects.  I was being naif thinking I would be able to remember what is what and when I put them in. Frozen they all look alike, other than the slices of Christmas pudding which I daresay is two years old now. I suspect even frozen foods have a ‘shelf life’ and I should either thaw and eat what’s there or throw them out as lost causes.

Before I put anything else in cryogenic containers I should come up with some plan of action to identify and keep tabs of what’s in there.  What is obvious are the frozen vegetables and the frozen pizzas. The former seem to stay for months while the latter tend to  escape Houdini-style no matter how deep I bury them under the mystery meats.

Certainly the simplest solution is pull out the unknown blocks one at a time and let them thaw and reveal themselves. As it is nearly 40C here this wouldn’t take long. In the past I am often disappointed along the line of why I bothered to freeze that in the first place.*

Spo-fans are welcome to leave tips in the comment how they manage the contents of their freezers.  The more bold ones can give me their addresses so I can ship them surprise packages.


*I suspect the answer is simple one: guilt. I make a large something or other, and then I feel too bad about washing it down the waste-pipe. So I freeze it for a nebulous later. Like Walt Disney, I hear.