So Zane and Nora love themselves some popsicles. They eat them like they are going out of style. I don't mind much. They keep them happy and hydrated on the few hot days that we have. Sure, they leave the sticks laying about, but how hard is it to pick those up and throw them away, since they lick them dry each and every time they have one?
My beef is with the freezer. More than once, after a popsicle raid has occurred, I have found the freezer not quite shut, with frosties growing out the door. I yell. Well, more like bellow. We have a little "lesson" on how to close the freezer. I tell them they have to close the freezer EVERY SINGLE TIME they get something out of it. They say they understand, and I think they do, because I haven't found the freezer open again.
I did however note a funky odor coming from the basement. I peeked. Freezer shut, check. Over the day, the odor became fouler and fouler. I investigated further and found that the reason the freezer shut was that the infamous Not Me had been at it again. Sixteen pounds of steaks shoved in the lego bin, fully defrosted and turning grey. No one knew anything about that. But they were both adamant that they had closed the freezer tight.
You just gotta love em, because otherwise, you will lose your mind.
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