Their first afternoon back at Chautauqua, Ethel opened the refrigerator door. She grimaced at the Lower-East-Side-old-garbage-in-a-dark-alley smell that hit her in the face like a blob.
Among all the condiment jars was one with yellowed pickles -- and an oozing fluid that congealed down its side. The open box Arm and Hammer baking soda had collapsed and a cocaine-like power had stuck to the glass shelf. Several old lemons had turned into something looking like big raisins, and the package of Thomas' English muffins next to them contained a gray-brown science experiment inside. At least the bottle of Karo corn syrup could be salvaged. Ethel went to lift it off its shelf, but it stuck in place. Someone hadn't closed the lid.
"Just look at this mess, Norman," she said, giving her husband a stern look. "Someone didn't clean out the refrigerator last October before we went back to Florida."
"Well, next time, just remember to clean it up, Ethel. We could get bugs in the house."
Bats were more likely at Chautauqua, but yes -- this fall, when they left for Palm Beach, she'd clean the refrigerator herself.
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