Type A Disgusting Splatter

I cleaned my microwave today. Eww. Grunge work of the third degree.

As I was scrubbing I began pondering all the gore and atrocity involved in cleaning the kitchen and decided to voice my indispensable opinions concerning the three levels of what I like to call "Kitchgrimes," commonly known as kitchen cleaning jobs. In this post I hope to clarify myths and truths of kitchen grunge work and de-mystify the practice of Kitchgrimes to which we all are subject to in our daily lives.

First, if I may, I will bring to light the three degrees of Kitchgrimes. Both obscene and distasteful in nature, yet inevitably true. In order to fully conquer your kitchen, you must first gain knowledge of the three areas in which you are most likely to lose your sanity while making spotless your area for food preparation. They come in waves, or as stated more easily, types. Which can be recognized with numbers or letters. We shall illustrate using the latter.

Type C: The Floor. Aside of sweeping and moping the revolting tiles, one must also remember to cleanse the zone just below the cabinets. Inhabiting the area are scraps of raw noodles and ice cubes fallen from the fridge mixed with wads of dust and whatever bugs the Raid didn’t kill by the sink. Ugh. The boredom involved in watching paint dry would be more bearable than even this.

Type B: The Dishes. The heart of this Kitchgrime lies in the purging of all leftover food particles and condiments off of the family’s favorite mugs and dishware. Smudges of mustard and half-eaten fries fuse in a swirl as they are sucked down the garbage disposal never to be seen (or heard of) again. That is, of course, unless a spoon gets in the mix and later calls on your talents as a plumber to retrieve the long lost and nearly departed silverware. Grotesque, to say the least.

Type A: The Microwave. At last we reach my original task. As I gaze at the spots made by exploded spaghetti sauce, gobs of melted cheese, and egg batter slime, my stomach begins doing pirouettes. Yuck. I would rather eat Spam.

I wish there were some other nasty noise I could portray with words that I haven’t already used to paint a picture of the emotions one feels while cleaning the kitchen and experiencing these things which I have described. But alas, other than mimicking the sound of throwing up, (which I am not going to even attempt with letters) I have none. I suppose I’ll leave that to you. If you have anything to add to the gore involved in the cleaning of one’s kitchen, please let me know.

Happy Kitchgrimeing!