That’s what I’ve named our refrigerator. It’s a shiny, pretty stainless steel contraption, but it’s a fingerprint magnet, impossibly unspacious, and now it croaks. And the ice maker only works when it feels like it. It sounds like a frog, croaking non stop, for reasons unknown. Truthfully, it’s quite annoying. However, despite it’s smudgyness and the fickle nature of the ice maker, the refrigerator does it’s job. Our food is cold, and that’s what matters most.
I’m practicing positivity.
We had a dinosaur of a refrigerator in Georgia. In fact, all the appliances in our kitchen were atleast a few years older than me. The fridge kept things cold enough to prevent the spread of bacteria, but not cold enough for our liking. Especially where milk was concerned. The day before Thanksgiving two years ago, that archaic fridge died a quick and unexpected death, leaving me with a crud load of food and nowhere to put it.
My parents were in town, looking forward to a lavish Thanksgiving spread, and there I was in my standard minuscule military housing kitchen, panicking mightily. I had a major meltdown, frantically called the housing people and within an hour we had a new fridge. Well, it was new to us, but just as old as the one that had just conked out on me. I think they swiped it from an unoccupied house down the street from us. I seriously considered kissing the maintenance guy, but figured that would be inappropriate. Besides, he was old enough to be my grandfather. Eww. Instead, I called him my favorite person EVER.
It was a true Thanksgiving miracle.
Two more days until school starts!
We received a note at open house requesting that the kids bring in a special writing journal, as big as or bigger than a marble composition notebook, preferably without the spiral binding. What’s with the all these specifics? I guess years of experience in the classroom leads a teacher to know what works best. We found a nicely decorated spiral-less bound notebook, which happened to be the only one left at Target. School shopping is absolutely, positively complete, after grabbing an adorable purple polka dotted shirt for Caroline, and so is our soccer gear shopping. They didn’t have black and pink soccer shoes in Caroline’s size, so we were forced to buy black and silver. Oh well, I’ll just have to get over it; Caroline, as usual, couldn’t care less.
It’s a slow day around these here parts. After our trip to Target and a stop at Dunkin Donuts to use a free iced latte coupon, we got home and Craig said “now what do we do?” His Sundays are typically spent running an insane amount of miles and then recovering for the rest of the day on the bed in front of the television. However, he did his long run/recovery yesterday, leaving Sunday wide open. Unfortunately we’re boring and have nothing to do. Caroline and her peeps are building a tent upstairs, so I gather our day will be spent trying to avoid the tent and the endless bickering over where everyone should sit.
I had every intention of getting up for an early morning jaunt around the neighborhood, since I missed the gym yesterday, but what seemed like a brilliant idea last night wasn’t nearly as disgestable this morning. I also dreamed that my big toe was cut in half, which I found to be quite disturbing. In my dream, I walked around in my flip flops, sticking my toe back together when ever the top fell off. I can’t even fathom why I’d dream such a thing.
All I know is that a dream about big toes sliced in half doesn’t put one in the mood to go for a run.