I have appliance problems.
The toaster is still toasting and the stove is still heating and the microwave continues to wave, but the refrigerator just isn’t reaching the appropriate amount of cold. And that’s not a good thing when the temp hits 88 and the humidity turns you into a sponge.
The fridge is only two years old and evidently it’s a piece of crap. To be honest, I’m not even sure it’s working anymore. It’s not getting cold, and I don’t hear too many sounds coming from it. That’s different than what I usually hear with this fridge, little taps and groans and pops. I thought it was just the natural sounds of some cycle the fridge was going through, but maybe it was the first sign that something was wrong. The light’s still on, if that means anything.
So I sit here, drinking a supposed-to-be-cold drink, working on The Letter, the Red Sox/Tigers game on in the background with the sound off, engulfed in sweat and humidity. For me, every day of the summer consists of two activities: sweating and killing bugs.
(By the way, lots of new stuff up at Professor Barnhardt’s Journal, if you haven’t visited it lately.)