The sun is shining, the tunes are blasting--
summer is HERE, motherfuckers!For the moment, at least.
This being Utah--the state of confusion--we will get at least 2 more snowstorms before July.
But that's a'ight.
It's so gorgeously sunny and not-too-warm that I can hardly stand to stay indoors!
And yet I do...
Yesterday we finally replaced our leaky fridge.
We bought it to go with our first house, 7 years ago.
It had more cubic feet than side-by-sides and, unlike those, would fit in its designated spot in our kitchen.
I've loved that fridge.
It had an in-freezer ice maker, which was the next best thing to the in-the-door one that my husband hankered after (at the time I didnt' give a shit, but stay tuned).
It was roomy and the shelves were all custumizable.
Loved.
That.
Fridge.
Then, one day...
shortly after we made like the Jeffersons and moved on up,
the icemaker started leaking.
This meant our lovely, large bucket of ice was often melted into one large brick of ice and the water was seeping down through the rest of the fridge and pooling under the crispers--but not before causing plenty of commotion on the way down.
SO.
We are lazy and/or cheap and didn't get around to replacing the fridge-a-rama until yesterday.
We now have the loveliest stainless steel, ice/water in door appliance.
Mmmmm....appliances get me so hot!
It does have slightly less space than our old fridge, but hardly noticeable,
and when we plug in the old one out in the garage we'll have plenty of overspill
(no pun intended!) for watermelons and cases of soda and frozen stuff.
I am soooooooooo excited.
Hubby is too, but it's kind of hard to tell, what with all the pain he's in from overexerting himself and his broken/bruised/generally unimpressed with life ribs.
I feel terrible, but at least now he's willing to go to the doctor.
It can't hurt--even though they can't do much for broken ribs, they may be able to give him some tips on how to recover faster or insist he stay in bed for a few days or something.
...which would be a good place for him...winka winka...
Enjoy your St. Patrick's weekend and kiss somebody Irish--
or at least kiss one of your pictures of me!
(yes, I'm very Irish)
Oh, here's what I wrote once (the condensed version of something that really happened):
I was mistaken for somebody beautiful once, which was one of the best compliments I have received. A girl in a bar, insisting that I was someone else. Repeating like a mantra, “She was so pretty. Are you sure you never worked there?” As though I would begin to speak with the missing Irish lilt and embrace her with a laugh, exposing my own rouse. I continued to shake my head and smile, no, I had never worked in that place, and as proud as I was to have been mistaken for a real Irishwoman, I was only Irish in name, and as one slice of my mottled, American heritage. |
posted by Bored Housewife at
2:03 PM
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