Our fridge broke the other week. I, being the ever so
stubborn persistent person that I am, researched on YouTube and Google and did all the “common issue” maintenance I safely could, Han Solo. I thought I fixed it, but alas. Our purchased thermometers confirmed: the temperature did not stay consistent in neither the freezer nor the fridge areas. Food poisoning was lurking out in our hallway, robed in her purple velvet cloak, snickering and smirking while smelling of rancid milk. I threw an aluminum air freshener can at her.
Out, we threw all our perishable food items away. Out went my beloved hummus, Tamari, pickles and the beautiful gift of Mexico: salsa. Oh, my wounded fajita.
I kicked Food Poisoning outside into a rose bush. She’s still out there, glowering and sulking, darting me nasty looks and stale crackers with old sardines.
“And stay out!!!” I thundered at Food Poisoning, while making my editor wince at my choices in punctuation.
I closed my curtains and proceed onto writing Part II of my manuscript in progress. Progress and somethings.
Then we called in a refrigerator professional…A PhD in Refrigeratology. He did his thesis on the thermodynamics of frozen strawberry ice cream. 🍓
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