Our fridge is fixed!
So this morning, my doorbell rang, delivering great news. It was the repairman from Sears, come to finally fix my fridge. I swear, it was like I was transported back to my childhood during Christmas and I was witnessing the arrival of Santa. You know, you never truly appreciate the gentle frost giant that stands off to the side in your kitchen, day-in day-out, humming along in an effort to preserve some semblance of civilization. Until it's gone, that is.
I mean, we really do go about our business everyday, taking our refrigerators for granted. Opening the door and just staring into that white vertical abyss, under the delusion that some new treat may have appeared in the five minutes since our last foray into the gentle giant's belly.
But have someone suddenly tell you the giant's taken its last frosty breath and it's like the world's all askew. Like the entire planet has just stopped spinning completely and the apocalypse is now upon you. You and the remnants of food that require a certain temperature to ward off the possibility of death by that salmon that seems intent on swimming on without your approval or the temperature it requires to prevent an olfactory rebellion.
But alas, I was able to muddle through these last two weeks, only because I like the idea of a back-up, and ours is sitting in our terrace, crammed with all the contents of it's higher-end brother. It's been hell, let me tell you. Going outside several times a day to collect milk, butter, etc... it was like having to go food shopping in my own backyard, and it SUCKED because every time I came inside, I realized I forgot something outside.
So now, the fridge is up and running, sealed off in order to return to its former frigid state. Man oh man, am I looking forward to stocking it again. You know, when I was a kid, I never thought I'd find myself in a position to say I'm actually looking forward to manual labor of any kind. And now, here I am, anxious to all hell to get to it.