A COLD WAR: THE GREAT FLAT FRIDGE FIGHT

By Molly Carter (she/her)

That almost holy blue light that washes the kitchen is ironic for a place so hellish. I am alluding to the titan that is the communal flat fridge. What a place to hang out, right? I’d say this is a universal struggle for many and for those less fortunate, it’s nothing short of a battle. I’d even go as far as to say an all-out war. A cold war? (Pun very much intended.) The fridge— and freezer included but often left out in the cold— is an ominous place. Sometimes peaceful, but often a war zone.

Flatting sure is an experience that isn’t without its ups and downs. Trials and tribulation. You’ll make some great memories and some not-so-good ones. That’s natural. What’s not natural is what’s going on in my fridge. Okay, a bit dramatic – I know it’s not that bad now, but it has been. Why are there so many individual versions of the exact same thing? Tell me why we need three tomato sauces occupying prime shelf real-estate? I don’t have all the answers if I’m honest. I can only offer you some light entertainment and perhaps some motivation to clean that thing out. Just sort it okay, for your health and my sanity. Also, a side note to my flatmates if you’re reading; I love you, don’t worry, this isn’t about you . . . this time x.

Let’s dive in.

Duplicates. Often this is the first sign of trouble. How hard is it get one bottle of milk if more than one of you drink it? Very difficult indeed. How are you to anticipate the rate in which milk is used? That’s not even accounting for different types of milk. That’s why there are currently four bottles in the fridge door and honestly, I wonder how those hinges are holding up. I currently have Spiderman on mine, and I will not apologise for it. It needs to be sat upright, in prime view, just how it was intended.

You know what little game I find challenging? It’s the ‘use it to the very end but refuse to replace it’. I don’t know about you but if you have siblings, you might relate. Don’t leave a useless portion and put it back. Just finish it. How dare you tempt me with that measly thimble of juice, taunting with my hopes. Also on the topic, leftover thieves? I’m fortunate enough to have flatmates with boundaries because I’d hate to go full Joey Tribbiani, “Joey doesn’t share food.” Space? Shelf space if we’re getting specific – well, there is none. Good luck getting those leftovers in, I salute you but I’m not sacrificing my tomatoes for your crusty pizza. It’s a battle, truly. I don’t know how many share your fridge but there’ll never be enough room. You need to accept that. I find myself asking, does this need to go in the fridge? If I don’t know, it’s going in. Not a bad system, but it piles up. I suppose there are worse things to complain about. I know there are. Too much food in your fridge certainly isn’t something to complain about. But I’ve found that almost half the things in the fridge are useless alone. What are you going to make out of ketchup and Worcestershire Sauce? Honestly, I’m a little afraid to ask. When the fridge gets cleared out and you need to concoct a meal from those remnants of the weekly shop you really think about the choices that got you there.

Still, I don’t know what your fridge looks like but WHY are there so many sauces? Does everyone have a shelf dedicated to dressings and condiments that rarely get used? And if they are cleared out, why do they return to the fridge like aliens to the mothership? It’s weird. It’s like they know something…

Check the back of your fridge. Just do it. The casualties also pile up. Those carrots you forgot about; they didn’t go anywhere but they’re not the same three weeks later. Throw them out. You can’t make banana bread out of everything. When have you ever actually made banana bread? But that’s a story for the fruit bowl. Which has been aptly renamed the banana bowl in my house. It’s wild, or rather, it’s bananas (I will not apologies for the puns, you’re still reading so that’s on you).

So really, you must monitor what you are purchasing to avoid waste, but that’s surprisingly difficult when items get lost in the void of the fridge. Ironically, that ice box is a black hole backlit (in contradiction) by glaring blue light.

I think it’s a question of prioritising and organisation. If you share the fridge with others like me, you could divide shelves. Sure, that works in theory, but explain to me how I am supposed to fit my Tupperware on that weird half shelf thing? It’s not practical. I assume the shelf heights have their purposes but our flat is yet to crack that code. It’s okay if the door closes; what’s behind it can’t hurt you, right? Wrong. If you don’t arrange correctly, you better be prepared for those floodgates to open. If anything, it’s a good test of reflexes. I don’t have Spiderman on my milk for nothing, my ability to catch falling jars and various produce is a testament to my honed Spidey-senses.

All I can say is try to have some sort of a system. I know it’s a struggle, but it might help. Produce on the bottom shelves/drawers, sauces checked in their little corner, and dairy in another. Or find yourself a friend with a knack for Jenga and enlist them into helping. Offer them food in compensation. Good luck.