Two un-big things:
1. Our fridge went on vacation. Or it just had a bad day? I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t really hold it accountable if it had a bad day; I mean, granted, it wasn’t optimal timing for it to have a bad day (I had a gallon of chocolate milk in there that I’d only just started to drink), but then again, it could have been a much more crucial situation.
Either way, I opened the door at one point on Sunday night and it was… not full of cold air. The digital screen on the door was reading 60 degrees for the fridge and 3 degrees for the freezer; I tried rearranging things and checked all the sealings and put everything on a TurboCool setting, and a few hours later it was up to 68 and 9 degrees. The manual was of no help but it did say something about a 24-hour stabilization period, which made me think of that mandatory 48-hour stretch before the police let you file a missing-persons report. The message is basically the same: hold on before you officially freak out, buddy. Cool those jets for just a few.
By the time I got home from school last night, everything was back up and running (37 and 0), and today The Wife and I cleaned it out. Or rather, she cleaned it out and I sat at the island and kept busy by spreading brie on crackers (though, hey, I did wash and reverse-engineer some of the shelves and drawers). It ended up being something of a zen process in that we needed to toss a lot of stuff out anyway but had just never gotten around to it before. And now our fridge looks like something out a bachelor pad: condiments on the door, beer and sodas on the top shelf, and nothing, nothing else. The cheese drawer, which is the heart and soul of our fridge, is depressingly vacant.
2. I rearranged the furniture in my bedroom. It wasn’t until I was in the middle of throwing my shoulder into the reading chair to move it across the room that I realized it’s been six months (I got the keys the evening of March 31) since I moved into this house, and then I couldn’t help but laugh because really? How typical of me.
But my bed is finally in a more dedicated bed-spot and bed-orientation, which I’m hoping will encourage me to actually sleep in it. It’s a nice bed, don’t get me wrong; it’s a nice bed and it was an expensive bed and I’ve moved it up and down extensive flights of stairs five times now for a reason. A reason other than function, though, or so it’s seemed these past five-and-a-half months. The final straw came after I walked into my bedroom one night, thoroughly stressed and exhausted, and without even giving it a second’s consideration, grabbed a pillow off my (cleaned and cleared) bed and sprawled out on the floor.
It’s also nice, the bed’s new location, because now, even with the door open, you can’t see it from the hallway. This is beneficial primarily because a) I, uh, tend to go the "minimalist" route when it comes to sleepwear and b) Part II likes to come and go as she pleases. Before, the options were to sleep fully clothed (which sucked), sleep with the door closed (which meant either having to get up several times to let the damn cat in and out or having to endure the THUMP THUMP THUMP as she futilely tried to open it herself by shoving her paw underneath) or hope The Wife didn’t happen to glance up as she passed through the hallway.
3. (Surprise! To make up for all those times when I fall short of my number list predictions:)
Holy crap. We watched "Poseidon" tonight and it was the most amazing thing ever. I didn’t think I had that much snarky commentary left in me! But we were coming off fresh from the debates, so I guess I was inspired and on a roll. We made bets after the first five minutes as to how the remainder of the movie would play out, and I super totally effing won! It was like the Super Bowl of bad action movies! But no sharks. I kept waiting for sharks, and they never came. Be ye not so foolishly optimistic.