things that can't be fixed by being awesome

My fridge threw craps yesterday.

Unfortunately these types of things come with living on your own, and even more unfortunately are absolutely not fixable by sheer awesomeness. The kind of awesomeness that will, say, give you the power to pull a humongous couch through an otherwise impassable door or alternately, realize that turning up your water heater could yield a hotter showering experience.

These were triumphs of singledom. The death of my fridge doesn't really lend itself to one of those experiences, mostly because there's very little that can be done about it -- other than call my landlord, take frozen food stuffs to my aunt's house nearby and listen to its last chugs of life off and on all night, wishing, hoping, PRAYING that one of those little chugs would get the thing going again. Not soon enough to save my Klondike bars, R.I.P., but it'd be nice.

The landlord was supposed to have someone come by today to check it out, and if it has to be replaced who knows how long I'll be without one.

It's harrowing tales like this that make me think back to childhood, when you'd tell crazy stories about things that had happened to you -- you fell off a bike, down some stairs, face planted into pavement, etc. -- and the first question (well, after the very obvious "Did it hurt?") was "Did you cry?"

I think the grown-up equivalent of scraping your knee or falling off the playground equipment is definitely moments like this. I expect to tell someone, "My fridge died last night." And have their very natural first question be, "Did you cry?"

And yes, internet. I wailed. God damn you, Frigidaire.


cheers,
elizabeth