A guest post by Alicia Donald for the Didjeridu Blog:
It all started on that one faithful day in June when I said to my spouse “I’ll get around to it tomorrow.” We were lucky when our fridge broke down because the neighbors had a spare one, and they said we could borrow it for as long as we needed. Little did I know their kindness was a curse that would promote my laziness. It wasn’t until a little under two months later in August that I’d finally get around to solving the problem. And this is my comical tale.
I should start by saying how the fridge broke down, because that’s one of the funniest parts of this story. It’s safe to say my nephew is literally a cookie monster. I mean he’s not just a little boy who loves cookies. I mean he’s literally a friggen cookie monster, man! How so? Well, in his desperate search to get the cookies from the jar above the fridge, he turned into a miniature green Hulk and knocked the whole fridge over. I heard the noise from the bathroom and stomped out to find my nephew lying on the floor next to a broken cookie jar, a broken fridge, stuffing his mouth with cookies.
First of all you might wonder how knocking a fridge over would break it. Our fridge was rather old, one of the main reasons my family loves it so much and went through the trouble of getting it fixed in the first place. Something inside just went out of place, I assumed. I didn’t know at the time because I never looked inside. Like I said, I had settled for “getting around to it tomorrow,” which secretly meant “two months from now.”
At least my nephew got some cookies out of the deal, and he managed not to cut himself with the shards of the broken cookie jar (though part of me wish he had just to teach him a lesson).
After all this happened, I let my nephew’s father do the scolding for I was in no mood to do so, let alone talk at all. All the food I was supposed to eat over the next few weeks was going to waste for all I knew. This was around when the neighbors knocked on my door, wondering how we were doing. I thanked Jesus they happened to bring a lasagna with them, for I was hungry (and didn’t feel like cooking meat that had been fridgeless for 6 hours).
I invited the kind people to lounge in my living room, where they heard the funny tale of the how the little boy I was supposed to be baby sitting broke my only refrigerator. The husband took one look at his wife, then looked back at me and said politely, “You know, I’ve fixed at least six fridges in my day. Perhaps I could take a look at it.” When I said that was awfully nice, but I plan to do it myself, they must’ve sensed internally that I would never get around to it so they offered, “Well then, you can borrow our spare in the meantime.”
I was awfully tired, yet feigned gratitude nonetheless. The gratitude didn’t actually kick in until I had slept and woke in the middle of the night to grab a glass of milk. “Ahhh, fresh, cold milk!”
It’s needless to say that this was precisely when the evil curse took effect, and my subconscious mind, also known as the demon who haunts me, suggested, “Muahahahahaaaa, you don’t need to fix your old fridge. You can just use this one for ever and ever and ever AND EVER!!!”
Time went by. More time. More time. And eventually I forgot that I was even borrowing a fridge, until the next time the neighbors knocked on my door. This time their lasagna had mushrooms in it (yuk). When sitting around the tea table on the patio, the husband, who was always polite, after beating around the bush for a bit, asked, “Our grandson is missing his quick access to pizza pops. When do you think we could get that fridge back?”
The first thing I wondered, which was rudely out loud, was, “I thought the fridge was a spare?”
“Technically it was, which was why we were letting our grandson use it for his pizza pops.”
I later found out their grandson plays video games all day, hence the need for quick access. Despite my personality, I felt bad for the kid and, there on the patio, answered, “I suppose you can come pick it up tomorrow.”
I didn’t know how in the world I would get ye olde fridge fixed overnight, but my neighbors accepted my answer nonetheless, and left me to enjoy my mushroom-stuffed lasagna that I ended up throwing away (I hate mushrooms if you didn’t guess).
That afternoon I felt like a college student who had lost all hope on finishing her homework in time and paced back and forth in the basement like an evil genius, thinking should I call Batman? He would know what to do. It was the word “call” that rang a bell for me, and I raced to the laptop to find the perfect appliance repair service to call. I didn’t feel like spending money to do something I should’ve done myself two months ago, but I had to. I owed my neighbors a number of favors for all the kindness they’ve shown me and I wasn’t going to disappoint them, nor their pizza pop loving grandson.
Well, we’re coming to the end of this tale now, as the appliance mechanic came over, pridefully calling himself a refrigerator technician and guess what? Yeah, really I ask you. Guess what happened next? His job only took two minutes because a wire was loose! Yup, you heard me right. A STINKING WIRE WAS LOOSE!
I probably don’t need to tell you how stupid I felt. He showed me the loose wire before he put it back into place, and it was so obvious I could’ve spotted it myself if only I had taken the time to inspect the appliance myself. But nope. I am silly, they say. Oh, silly Alicia. She never does anything right!