|in case you can't read teenage boy scrawl, it reads: Good luck you handsome son of a gun!|
This was also on the fridge:
|In case you can't read teenage girl cheekiness, it reads: Dear House Elf (Dobby), Could you arrange the fridge? It's getting out of hand. Love, Harry Potter's Best friend (wink, wink) I might give you a sock!|
I don't really understand what Harry Pottery's Best friend (wink, wink) means.
Also, in my defense, the contents of our refrigerator are not that bad. Yes, I did go to Costco last night and that always creates a packed fridge and yes, a jar of salsa fell on my head and rolled across the floor yesterday (didn't break!). But still.
|It's not THAT bad. Is it? Why am I showing you the contents of my fridge? I don't know.|
It's not my fault I have to buy enough milk weekly to feed a small army (there's more in the door as well). That makes for crowded conditions.
Tonight, I think I'll suggest Emma uses up some of her creative energy in arranging the fridge to her specifications.
If she does a good job, I might give her a sock.