Most of us keep paper towels in the kitchen for quick cleanups, but did you know they can also work wonders in your fridge? It might sound unusual, but placing paper towels in your refrigerator can help extend the life of your fresh produce.
According to Reader’s Digest, lining your produce drawers with paper towels is an easy and effective way to prevent fruits and vegetables from spoiling too quickly. Here’s how to use this handy trick:
- Line Your Produce Drawer: After shopping, place a layer of paper towels in the bottom of your crisper drawers before adding fresh fruits and veggies.
- Replace Regularly: Swap out the paper towels whenever you restock the drawer to keep things fresh and clean.
- Add to Produce Bags: For bagged items like spinach or lettuce, slip a paper towel inside the bag to help absorb moisture.
Why does this work? Over time, fruits and vegetables naturally release moisture, which can make them soggy and cause them to spoil faster. Paper towels absorb this excess moisture, keeping your produce crisp and fresh for longer.
This simple practice not only reduces food waste but also cuts down on fridge cleaning since the paper towels help keep your drawers dry and tidy.
With fresh produce becoming increasingly expensive, it’s frustrating to see it go bad before you can enjoy it. By adding a few sheets of paper towels to your fridge, you can extend the shelf life of your fruits and veggies, save money, and make the most of your grocery shopping.
If you haven’t tried this yet, now’s the perfect time to start! A small change like this can make a big difference in reducing waste and preserving your food.
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
Leave a Reply