Close to Nowhere

"Gloom, despair and misery on me. If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all..."

Despite all the blessings I've had this past couple years ­ not being dead the greatest of these ­ it seems like my existence is haunted by weird or broken things.

For instance, take my refrigerator. Please, take it. The thing, while spacious and most of the time cold, likes to break. The icemaker especially. I've had the serviceman out probably four-five times the last couple years.

One of the slide out drawers in the freezer is unusable. It's frozen shut and what is in there is a mystery and not coming out ­ ever.

Couple weeks ago, stuff in the freezer began being less frozen. The icemaker began it's favorite trick of slowing down ice production. Then one morning, not only did the icemaker no longer spit any ice at all in my glass, the stuff in the freezer was soft. And even worse, the stuff in the refrigerator side wasn't cold.

It took three or so days to get the serviceman out here. They always act like I live in a remote, hard to reach place. By the time he arrived, I'd lost about everything in both sides.

Normally, they tinker and fuss around inside the thing and in a hour or so, it's humming quietly and efficiently again ­ until the next time.

Not this time.

This time the list of parts needed was really long. And, because of the current pandemic, the repairman didn't have any parts. They all needed to be ordered. And mailed.

The guy said that if I unplugged it and let it sit and defrost for 24 hours, it would kind of work until it froze again or the parts could get here and he could come back and fix it. In a week or so.

After he left and I'd hit total panic, I texted my youngest granddaughter Remy and her husband Mitch. I quite literally have no idea what I'd do without Mitch. He takes excellent care of me and all my problems. God honestly sent him to Remy, not only for her, but for me also.

Now, thanks to Mitch and Remy, my dining room is filled with ice chests full of refrigerator stuff.

After a quick clean-out of the laundry room freezer, what didn't ruin in the big freezer is crammed in there.

And sadly, a large garbage bag of melted items went into the trash. I have a serious addiction to sweet potato french fries and I lost all the frozen bags of them. Sigh...

I'm well aware that it could be worse. And, around here, it probably will be. (Quiet, weird laugh here.) In the meantime, I'm coping with ice chests and digging in ice for the milk or mayo, butter or eggs. I did manage to Insta-Pot a thawed beef roast and makemashed potatoes, roast, gravy and Brussels sprouts so I could at least feed Mitch and Remy while they were working.

And, despite my groaning and whining, I'm so blessed. I have a dining room full of ice chests and Mitch has come by every day and refilled with ice.

I may have bad luck, but I've also got a grandson of my heart, who takes excellent care of me. He and Remy are rainbows in my life.

They've even made a broken refrigerator not so bad.