I’m willing to put money on the fact there’s a jar of pickled beets in the back of your fridge. How do I know? Because every fridge has a jar of picked beets relegated to the nether regions. Perhaps it was a gift from gardening aunt Gladys or a neighbour who moved six years ago. I, in fact, don’t remember where mine came from. But it’s been there so long, I can’t bring myself to throw it away. And so begins the story of how my fridge is a metaphor for my life.

I’d be lying if they told you I: a) knew what a crisper drawer was for, and b) used it for crisping things. This is, obviously, where the things that are too big to go anywhere else go. The watermelons, the roasts, a six-pack of Fahr Hefe and, yes, a cucumber I bought with great intentions of making Greek salad, but is now anything but crisp … thank god for those air-tight plastic sleeves, amirite?

In my fridge, the door is dedicated to the misfits who don’t seem to go anywhere else. Often, it’s something I needed a teaspoon of once, but it only came in a 500 ml size, which is too much to throw away. I’m talking to you, squeeze-bottle of wasabi. Occasionally you’ll find a jar of pesto that may or may not have a layer of fuzz inside but I’m too scared to check, that weird liqueur that insists on being refrigerated after opening and a few packs of soy sauce from that time we ordered Chinese food and my husband said that’s the ONLY soy sauce he likes and why doesn’t it come in 500 ml sizes?

The stars of my fridge live at eye level on the top shelf: oat milk for cereal, eggs (two cartons because I actually went and picked something up from the list on the kitchen chalk board, and now I have to make quiche), yogurt and a brick of that $6.99 cheddar cheese I eat way more of than I’d like to admit.

If someone’s fridge says something about their personality, mine portrays a person who has little time, less attention and not nearly enough responsibility for her wellbeing. It also shows I’m one of the fortunate ones who regularly eats at Calgary’s great restaurants and is frozen with performance anxiety when it comes to making something myself. As spring moves into summer, maybe it’s time I bite the bullet and clean out the fridge. A fresh start, a new attitude and a commitment to actually putting vegetables in the crisper (I Googled it). The beets, however, stay. Some things are sacred.