"Any idea what this is?" Geoff asked, lifting the lid of a container just enough for me to see the furry rainbow growing inside and catch a whiff reminiscent of my childhood in Nitro.
"If you can't identify it, you can't eat it," I said. "Throw it out."
"But the container's still good," he said.
"It'll probably wash out OK," he said. He held up another container. "How about this? You recognize this?"
"Are those roots growing through the bottom?" I asked.
I returned to my dusting, trying hard to ignore the distracting squeals of delight as Geoff discovered new life forms in our refrigerator. He was singing loudly as he worked, altering the lyrics in that oh-so-adorable-except-to-teenagers way that he does. It wasn't until I heard a "Hey!" and a "Stop that!" that I grew concerned and decided to investigate.
Celeste, looking guilty, fled the room as I entered.
Standing before the open refrigerator, Geoff looked confused.
"Any idea why she was trying to rub bacon grease on me?" he asked. "The dogs won't leave me alone."
Fumes from the trash clouded my brain.
"I don't know why she did it," I heard myself say. "But you should leave it alone. It's good for your skin."
Reach Karin Fuller at karinful...@gmail.com.