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mmm, dairy Squishee... - Diary of a Necromancer
Excuse me, I'm making perfect sense, you're just not keeping up
mmm, dairy Squishee...
The latest episode of Scenes From A Crappy Apartment stars our refrigerator. The appliance we've been saddled with lo these seven years was basically an acromegalic dorm fridge: the single door opened to reveal a main refrigeration compartment and a secondary inner chamber that alleged to be a freezer. This freezer never worked very well, particularly when asked to look after ice cream, but in this latest heat-wave it apparently lost its will to cool entirely, turning even frozen potatoes into mushy soup; and worse, because the design dictated that the freezer was the main source of cooling for the entire unit, meat placed into the main refrigerator section was beginning to spoil within a day. We decided that this was the last straw and complained to the landlady when we went in to pay the rent Saturday before last. Remember this date, children.

Naturally enough nothing could be done over the holiday weekend, and by Tuesday I for one had forgotten we'd even mentioned it; imagine, then, my surprise when Creepy Maintainance Guy knocked on my door on Wednesday afternoon. He had a look at the beast, agreed that it was in a bad way, and alleged that the Stooges would be coming around the following afternoon, Thursday, after one, to replace the unit. Great, I said, I'll be out, is that okay? Tomorrow afternoon, he reiterated, and left.

So at noon on Thursday I dumped the contents of the fridge into a cooler and went out for a stroll, lured by the temptations of a sidewalk sale that a yarn store a few miles away was participating in and deciding that under the circumstances I'd just as soon make that that week's exercise goal and not have to deal with the nest of yellowvests that the morning's events in London had stirred up on the CTA into the bargain. Distance to yarn store and then back to transit afterwards: about 7 miles, go me. Returned to apartment: old refrigerator still lurking balefully in kitchen. Hmnph.

Friday: sat around sweltering in sweatpants, waiting to see if the Stooges had simply not been able to get into the apartment the previous day while I was out and meant to try again. Answer: no, they seemed to have forgotten all about it. Very put out, and resolved to call the landlady first thing Monday.

A call was duly placed, and Monday afternoon brought the reappearance of Creepy Maintainance Guy, who initially offered to replace the unit with another all-in-one from elsewhere in the building. No, I insisted, we're not putting up with that substandard setup any longer, you simply must find us a real refrigerator. Sulking, he agreed to check around the landlady's other properties for something that we would find acceptable. Later that evening the landlady called with the news that a proper fridge had been located; they'd bring it over Tuesday, "probably early".

Early Tuesday goes by. No refrigerator.

The landlady's assistant calls: they're running a little late, but they'll be over "between 2:30 and 5".

5 comes and goes. Still no refrigerator.

Angrier call to landlady placed.

Finally, Wednesday morning, landlady's assistant knocks on the door and shows me downstairs to where a herd of refrigerators are huddling in a basement storeroom. (It is unclear as to whether they may have been there all the while, as renovations to other units are still ongoing.) After taking some measurements (why are people always so surprised when I have tools handy? I don't see how anyone can really get by without at least having a measuring tape in the house...), I agree that the runt of the litter would fit into the available opening, provided they switched the door to open the other way around. Landlady's assistant says they'll bring it upstairs "as soon as the other short guy gets here" to help carry. Uh-oh, I think.

Having not gotten much uninterrupted sleep since all this began, of course I was napping again when Creepy Maintainance Guy eventually turned up at the front door at 1pm to ask me to unlock the back door. The appliance still wasn't quite ready, so I spent two more hours variously supervising the operation and plopped in front of the tv watching the commentators with their shuttle models playing "show us on the doll where NASA touched you", but in the end, we had Fridge, and it was Good. Total elapsed time since the initial complaint to landlady: eleven days...

(But at least when they took the old fridge away I found the corner that had broken off my TARDIS magnet, so that was a good thing to come of all this bother.)

I've been sleeping, on and off, pretty much this whole while since the arrival of the new fridge, and only now do I feel like I'm finally fully functional for the first time in about a week. (The last time I got that sleep-deprived I hallucinated Juan Valdez's donkey in a parking lot up in Evanston...) The new fridge works well, too well, in fact, and when I got up about an hour ago and went to make myself some cereal I discovered that the milk had frozen. You know things have been pretty bad when frozen milk is a cause for celebration. Next test: to see what the new freezer thinks about storing ice cream...


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