Life’s A Beach, And Then Your Fridge Dies

We returned home late Friday night from a glorious family vacation in Mexico. The trek home was not without it’s minor irritations and it was oh so good to be home sleeping in my own comfy bed.

Sunday morning I awoke rested, glad that we had the foresight to factor in an extra recovery day before the routine began again. Basking in the memories of an excellent get-away, I poured milk onto my cereal. Gloop.

The milk that I had carefully bought to be within it’s expiration date when I returned home was a gelatinous goo. Thinking that it was odd, I looked into the fridge. I touched the orange juice container. Warm? The eggs? Warm.

Nothing was cold. There was furry white mold floating in the jam and green spores in the salsa. Even the catsup had a watery layer floating on top of its surface. Ugh.

Rarely do I feel like physical violence is the way to go, but I wanted to kick that GE Profile refrigerator. I have wasted so much food because someone didn’t SLAM the freezer door or SLAM the fridge door.

My family knows the routine, but unsuspecting guests have no idea that you have to apply your full body weight in the ceremony of making sure the door is shut and the food stays cold. I want a new fridge! I want one that actually keeps food cold without freezing it. I want one where the door shuts properly.

Except, this wasn’t just a human malfunction. The fridge isn’t actually running at all. The freezer part is fine, but…

Waaaahhhhhhhhh! Yes, that’s the sound of me crying while I bang my head in frustration. It will all be better once I finish my coffee, right?

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