Dear fridge patrollers
It's not that I don't appreciate your efforts to stop our communal fridge from being declared a contamination zone. I do, I really do. I remember with shuddering vividness the chickpea salad that festered on the top shelf for 3 months, the avocado half that started to sprout from the seed, the leftovers that bubbles out from their container menacingly. So I applaud your diligence in keeping a watchful eye over things and making good on the threat in your clip art-laden poster to throw out anything that looks dangerous.
What I'm not so keen on is the criteria you seem to apply to decide what stays and what goes. Imagine my surprise when i went to get out my tub of homemade hummus, desposited in the fridge only that morning, to find it was gone. GONE! And imagine my even greater surprise to spot it in the rubbish bin, nestled among some mouldy noodles.
At first, I thought it was just a case of you being overly thorough. But then I noticed that mine was the only container that had been thrown in the bin. The kitchen counter was piled high with coloured tupperware and lunchboxes that had been emptied of their festering remains and left to be claimed by their owners, but my trusty little non-glamourous container obviously hadn't made the grade. I don't think you even opened it to see what was in there (for surely if you'd gotten a whiff of my deliciously fresh hummus you would have immediately known the error of your assumptions).
So my message to you is this, fridge patrol, don't judge me by the quality of my lunchbox. And keep your hands off my lunch.