Everyone has a bad day. I know, I might even be able to fill a book with them. Oh wait, I’m already doing it here.
But there are normal bad days and then there are days when you stroll into the kitchen, half asleep and casually open the fridge and the whole damn door disconnects from its hinges and ends up on the floor. Those are the days when you know it’s better to get back in bed and hide from the world. Karma is finally coming for you in all her biaatchness for kicking kittens in a past life. The rest of your day is going to be like sitting in a sauna in the steam of hell. With your fat uncle.
The first thing would be to decide whether to (a) Clean up the broken eggs and spilled milk or (b) Add flour to the mix on the floor and surprise the family with muffins, all before your first cup of black coffee. Then, whilst sipping a strong whisky because you thought whatafuck, you consider the importance of having a cooling appliance in your house. The pioneers didn’t die without one now did they? How dependent is human survival really on a unit that keeps beer cold and prevents meat from getting a funky smell. In the end there is only one answer…the voice of reason…the Wife. You need to get another one.
Which is fortunate for you as they are only selling at the price of a small house, especially considering most people budget for a new appliance every month. So you shop around like a crazy person on Black Friday and bargain like a deranged tourist at a street fair. You finally settle on something affordable and efficient because as a man you were already sick and tired of shopping when you entered the first appliance store.
Now you need to organise delivery of the unit because you feel it’s a total rip off to get it delivered by the store. They’ve already made enough money of you for one day. You load it on your truck and put your back into spasm carrying that monstrosity into the kitchen. All the while your son is threatening you with child services for employing child slavery. And you try your best not to lose your shit as the Wife is nagging about the cheese making friends with the yohgurt, who’s about to crawl of the counter. A real fun morning.
When you finally get to work and relay your disastrous morning to your colleagues, some DIY-freak, who also shadows as an insensitive prick by day, mentions how easy it is to fix a fridge door. You fight the urge to punch him in the f*cking face. If only for him not being in your house when you woke up. You brush off the comment from Admiral DIY because you know you’re as handy as a rock at the bottom of the ocean. Admiral DIY who’s also a saint, drops in after work and repairs the fallen door for you, at a cost of US 6. And a little effortless patience. Making you lose your shit again. Once he left the house off course.
What’s even worse is that you cannot return the new fridge because the Wife prefers the modern unit with the ice-maker to the one that you got as a present thirty years ago from your great-great-GREAT aunt, who doesn’t even recognise you anymore as she calls you Susan.
The only option is to change your internal hard drive setting to “sulk mode” and leave it in that position for the next three days. By then you concole yourself for having a private fridge that you can stock full of beer…once your budget allows it again.
Appliances are spiteful.
The good news is that it didn’t happen to me. The bad news is that it happened to a friend of mine. So it’s a true story and not a bad April fool’s joke.