Those things stood between me and good freezer-cleaning.
Small mountains of spilled flour and lost bits of frozen fruits mocked me from beneath the singular basket drawer. I couldn't wiggle my pudgy fingers through the grids. The vacuum wouldn't suck up the escapees. The dog refused to get his tongue stuck to the drawer.
Getting into the belly of the frozen beast required tools.
It was the gathering of said tools that took years to finally do. Socket wrenches, screwdrivers, and needle-nose pliers at the ready, I committed to disassembling the freezer. Godsdamnitall, that basket would be removed and I would CLEAN.
A myriad of contortionist poses and two bolts into the project, I lost my footing on condensation.
I pulled hard on the basket.
I pulled hard and up on the basket.
It slid free.
The only bolts I'd removed were for the wheels that allowed the basket to slide along the track when the door opened and closed. The wheels plunked to the floor. I sat before the mighty machine, on bruised butt, with the drawer over my head like some helmet for the "gifted."
I'm pretty sure the freezer laughed at me.
The damn thing is clean now. The drawer has been reassembled and slid back into place.
I am a genius, GENIUS, I tell you. You may bask in my infinite splendor now.