Wouldn't you think that after leaving the poor Frigidaire empty for nigh on three weeks, and then finally, FINALLY filling it up with good eats...wouldn't you think that big metal box would be grateful? OH NOOOOOOOOOO. Today it stopped running. Dead. Killed. Not breathing even a gasp.
I noticed when I reached into the freezer for a handful of ice and ended up with a wet hand.
I had to schlep all my beautiful goodies - my spinach, my broccoli, the eggs and butter, two bottles of wine, soda, milk - I had to put it all in the snowbank on my back deck. Yup, that's me - white trash using the deck as a refrigerator. Before you know it I'll be cooking me some ribs on a metal 55-gallon drum filled with scrap wood.
But wait, remember a month or two ago when I told you there was some kind of electrical black hole here at The Mansion? When the scanners and the cell phones all went berzerk? IT STRUCK AGAIN!
My friend S told me to check the outlet and so I tugged and pulled and moved the refrig so I could plug it in somewhere else and IT CAME ON.
I also came unglued because there was a dead mouse underneath it. Please, let me remind you that I am housesitting. I cannot be held responsible for the mouse - alive or dead! I guess this solves my odor problem. For two weeks I've been scrubbing the trash can, shoving a bazillion lemons in the garbage disposal, blaming the dog, when all the time Mickey was slowly heading to heaven under the frig. He was accompanied on his journey by about seven Legos, two little plastic people, a magnet and enough dust bunnies to have a marathon with the tortoise. I repeat: I AM HOUSESITTING and therefore not responsible for the any of the goodies hiding under there.
So, now I have a refrigerator in front of the kitchen sink. And a dead mouse in the trash, wrapped in three paper towels inside a hank of newspaper inside three zip lock bags. I think I'm sufficiently protected until I can drive to the dump tomorrow morning. Right after I call an electrician.