When I came home for lunch on Wednesday, Bill asked if I could get Margaret a drink from the fridge. I opened the door and gasped.
Someone had stolen my fridge and replaced it with a clean one!
Oh joy of joys. Our fridge was no longer disgusting.
At that moment all the complaints I have about Bill and Mar getting a summer vacation while I toil at work were forgotten — they came back, of course, the next morning when I had to climb over the sleeping bodies of both my husband and daughter to turn off my alarm clock.
But every time I open the fridge, I am reminded how lucky I am to have a husband who gets summers off and will spend some time doing the dirty work.
While the family were in New York, I had intended on getting to all the cleaning jobs that had been neglected for entirely too long. I got the tub scrubbed, all the floors scrubbed and the carpets cleaned. I organized Mar's room and finally started hanging things on her bare, lavender walls.
But I just didn't have time to get to the fridge ... the allure of riding my bike all over town in 98-degree weather was more compelling than cleaning that yellow sticky stuff from underneath the vegetable bins, I guess.
So while I still may not be getting a decent night's sleep, at least I can console myself with the thoughts of a fridge that is actually clean enough to keep food in.
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