Let me tell you, driving that appliance home, while it was standing (and slightly leaning) precariously on the bed of a truck, holding on to dear life by bungee cords, was no picnic. I practically had a mini-coronary every time we hit a bump (or fucking railroad tracks), and silently said a prayer to the baby Jesus that I wouldn't be on the news at night because the refrigerator had tipped over the side of the truck and fallen onto a poor traveling troubadour like how the shit went down in The Wizard Of Oz. So I drove the 20 miles from the store to my aunt's house at 35mph. And we got there the next day. Not really. It took less than an hour. But it felt like it took a day. And when we got home, my aunt was all, do you need a drink? or a change of pants? And I was all, uh yeah, probably both.
And then some more of the family showed up to help unload the fridge because there's a bunch of us, and we're everywhere, dude. And after moving the truck back and forth half a dozen times, and lining up next to it, they slid and lifted that bitch off the truck and onto the porch. Because we drink arsenic water, and have Hulk-like tendencies. (You'd have to have read my previous posts to get that one ;) -- see how cool it is that I've written a few posts now, and y'all are reading them, and now I can go back and REFERENCE shit in my own blog? That's freaking awesome, yo.)
But the doorway to the house was too narrow, so we had to take the doors off. Of the refrigerator, not the house. Because we couldn't take the doors off of the house. We checked. And my older cousin slapped her forehead, and was all, dude!! why don't we just take off the handles? And we were like, oh shit! that'd be way easier! And then they took off the handles, but it still wasn't enough, so we had to go back to taking off the entire doors. Of the refrigerator, not the house. And then, finally, the doors came off, and we got the refrigerator inside and into the kitchen, and everybody was like, hell yeah! good work team! high five!
But then the doors (of the refrigerator, not the house) needed to go back on, and apparently putting them back on proved a little more difficult than taking them off. Because when they were back on, they were slightly uneven because one was an inch higher than the other, and since all of us have OCD, we were like, noooooooo!!!!!! whyyyyyy!!!!! And then my older cousin and my mom and my aunt stood on chairs to see the top of the refrigerator, and the guys were holding the doors steady, and there was some banging and cursing and mumbling, and then my older cousin was all, THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE!!!!!!!!, and then we heard a thump, and the higher door dropped an inch, and the doors were even, and balance was restored to the universe.
And then one of the guys compared the dropping door to a testicle, and I laughed way more than I probably should have, because apparently I'm a lady, but it was freaking hilarious. And it would be way weirder for me NOT to laugh at testicle-related humor, because, well, you know, I'm me.
I took a picture of the refrigerator after it was set up and plugged in because it just looked so beautiful. And it drew me in, like the lights of the spaceship in Close Encounters Of The Third Kind. And I followed the lights because they promised feasts and deliciousness. It was awesome.
|This is the most beautiful refrigerator I've ever seen. Because the lights freaking glow, dude.|