Mama, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys (Dad, don’t take your kids to those cowboy bars)

pondI don’t have much left after being head down boogity boogity deep into html with javascript around the edges all day. It was mostly lather, rinse, repeat, except for a moment when I I/M’d the Queen Bee, “Hey QB, you’ve got the blah-blah-blah javascript menu file locked. Can I get into it for 10 seconds?” And she did and I fixed the issue and it maybe took more like 30 seconds but it was PDQ.

It was a slow commute home today. Unlike Lizard Breath, I can’t really bike to work, not to mention that I am a chicken about bike riding in general. I was on pins and needles not so much because of traffic but because I was afraid I would be coming home to a not-very-cold refrigerator. I dunno. Could I REALLY have managed to NOT CLOSE THE DAMN DOOR both yesterday morning and last night? I am usually not that careless but dish towels do hang on the door of my side-by-side and it is possible. This morning, the butter was soft and there was condensation everywhere. The freezer seemed to be okay. I turned down the temperature in the fridge and headed off to work. When I came home, things seemed okay.

I was envisioning having to put “buy a new refrigerator” onto my weekend list. I am in wait and see mode now.

When we moved into this house, there was a 17-year-old refrigerator here. We didn’t replace it. We were poor, don’tcha know. We had some minor problems with that fridge over the years. Once it sounded like a seagull was trapped inside. But it just kind of kept going. March 1997. Major ice storm. We had a brownout for a few days and then we were without power for about maybe 16 hours. When the power came back up, the refrigerator made a loverly r-r-r-r-rpppp r-r-r-r-pppp noise. That fridge was 31 years old by that time. The GG was in I-gotta-get-to-work mode. I MADE him stay home so we could go out and buy [finally] a new refrigerator. We were still poor but guess what? Our homeowners’ insurance paid for it. I am trying to think whether I’m on the second or third refrigerator since then… (It’s probably the second…)

One Response to “Mama, don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys (Dad, don’t take your kids to those cowboy bars)”

  1. Margaret Says:

    I’m terrified about my fridge going bad too. It’s a side by side and I remember Patt paying a lot for it 17 years ago. Eek!!