Rock that refrigerator

When Thanksgiving dinner was over and the family left, around 10:30 p.m., I had to do the cleanup. The best way to deal with something like this is simply to settle in and figure you will be there a while. So I did that.

I put on this new disc I had of William Backhaus playing Beethoven sonatas.

I poured a tiny (she said piously) snifter of Southern Comfort.

And I went to work.

Howard went to bed. I worked placidly on, sipping my Southern Comfort, listening to the Beethoven. It was good for me. I had enjoyed Thanksgiving, I really had, but it had made me hyper. People underestimate Beethoven's soothing effects. I do not mean it makes you sleepy or anything. But if your mind is jangled Beethoven can set it straight.

I finally finished up around 1:30 a.m. It was worth it!

Because that fridge, pictured above, have you ever seen anything like it?

What a fridge-packing job I did!

I know great art when I see it so forgive me if I take time to point out that I am the Leonard Pennario of fridge packing. Were there an audience I would have taken 12 curtain calls.

My crowning glory was how at the last minute I was able to rearrange things to fit in the carrot cake, shown in the center with the birthday candles my brother Tony ran and got at Wilson Farms. My mother had made the carrot cake for my brother George and my sister Katie's birthdays which were both this week. At the last minute I remembered the cake. And I thought, oh, I can not do this. I can not fit this in.

But I did!

The leftover turkey is on the top shelf over the cheese drawer. One secret of fridge packing is you take the leftover turkey off the bones and put the bones in the Crock Pot. No muss, no fuss. By morning you have turkey broth.

It is Friday so I have not eaten the leftover turkey yet. That all works out. Tomorrow I will be ready for it again.

Meanwhile, I can sit back and admire my handiwork.

It is immortal!