Isn't being unemployed wonderful?
You can do fun things like deal with the spider in the bathroom and clean out the fridge!
How rewarding to take all the jars and bottles of sauces and dressings and pastes off the top fridge shelf, divide them into Keep, Don't Keep, Omigod-where-did-you-come-from-an-archeological-dig and Welcome-to-the-world-new-life-form.
Then you get to wash out the ones you don't want anymore - what a varied experience!
First there are the ones that immediately sloosh with the water you put into them, loosening up as you put the cap back on and give them a good shake. As you open the lid and tip the bottle upside down, the contents gladly accept their fate, diving happily to meet the garbage disposal.
Second, there are those that are a little more stubborn. You shake and shake and turn the jar this way and that, and nothing happens. Then, just as you are about to give up and try again, the jar decides it's a bit seasick from all that shaking and vomits out it's contents in one big blurp of strange liquid/solid smelliness.
Third, there are those that choose to defy physics. You sloosh the water, you shake and shake but, when you turn the jar's rim to the sink, nothing. "Ha-ha Gravity!" they say, "You cannot conquer my amazing powers of gloopiness!" And so - joy of joys - the spoon or knife comes out and you have to stir and scrape then sloosh again. You have to give these jars their props. They don't let go easily. That coagulation in there - he's been working out!
And last - but certainly not least - there is, in a special category all of its own, the stubborn lid. The contents are liquid and could be disposed of quickly - if only you could get them out more than a drop at a time. So you tug the lid, you twist the lid, you bite the lid. Nothing.
Next tactic - hack at the lid with a knife. But the lid and the knife are in cahoots. The lid just gives the knife a springboard so that, no matter what angle you hold it at, it can bounce off and fly at your nearest artery.
But, undeterred, you persevere. And now the lid, the knife and the bottle gang up on you. You hack. The lid resists, the knife bounces, you flinch, the bottle slips.
And the bottle's contents spray all over you.
You sigh. Of course.
Because what you really want, first thing in the morning, is to smell of old fish sauce.