Our fridge is naked. And not out of some new, minimalist aesthetic kick.
How did this sad state of affairs come to be?
We had planned a quiet Sunday full of distractions from Baby O’s non-appearance: sit on the couch, watch old episodes of The Office, a movie or two, make a quick dinner . . .
And then the fridge died. Coolant system failure.
Suddenly, we found ourselves in domestic crisis mode.
The milk and eggs, alas, were already casualties.
Not only were the survivors — our vegetables and leftovers — at risk, but also all the extra meals I’ve made or frozen over the last couple months (to have at the ready when Baby O makes his/her appearance and decides for all of us that feeding him/her is more important than feeding us).
Our first line of defense: Mr. O grilled the kielbasa that had partially defrosted:
Thinking that a new fridge might arrive Tuesday, we resolved to buy mountains of ice and stock the coolers.
Turns out, there’s to be no fridge until Thursday.
Did I mention that it will be 88 degrees in Boston tomorrow?
Did I also mention that I’m past my due date and very stressed to begin with?
Thank goodness for Mr. O, who quick-thinkingly suggested that we move the frozen food to the very large freezer at his office, with the blessings of his wonderfully amenable boss. So that we did.
Our landlady’s daughter came through with a minifridge, so we’re hoping that it will keep our condiment collection and a few minor staples cool for the duration of the fridgelessness.
Meanwhile, we made what salad we could with the fridge’s veggies, and resolved to have culinary adventures for the next four days.
So now we leave you, Dear Readers, with a photo of our forlorn fridge magnets, waiting for their new home.