Woe is me. Or, which went bad first, the chicken or the egg?

My refrigerator is dying.

We began to notice a few weeks ago that the milk wasn't quite as cold as it once was, and at the same time I realized the milk was going bad quickly, a problem we've never had since there are enough of us drinking it to go through a gallon of milk in just a couple of days.

Then Leah left for the summer, Abbie went to work full-time, Elijah went off to work at the Boy Scout Jamboree, and the milk sat. And curdled.

A few days ago, Abbie voiced a more vehement protest, and Ben agreed it was time for a new fridge.

I went to the library to read what Consumer Reports had to say, measured the space it would have to fit in, and went to Lowe's and Best Buy. Can I just say I'm horrified at the prices? And the sizes? I really like that $2500 French-door bottom-mount model, but I'd have to knock out the back wall and put on an addition to fit it in here. And really, I only pay $2500 for things I can drive.

Ben and I have a date Saturday to go pick out a new one.

So this morning I made myself a bowl of Cracklin' Oat Bran (crunchy happiness in a box) and got out the jug of milk. I hesitated before I started pouring though, and it's a good thing I did. Something didn't smell quite right. I poured a mouthful into a cup and took a swig. And spit it in the sink.

And because I'm trying to lose some of last winter's fat before this winter hits and I start the sitting/feasting cycle all over again, I decided to make myself a scrambled egg (one) and a piece of whole wheat toast (one). When it was ready I grabbed the orange juice.

I don't know what made me think the orange juice would be any colder than the milk, seeing as how they share the same shelf in our failing appliance, but I  poured myself a big glass. Let me assure you that warm OJ doesn't rate much higher on the I-can-barely-stomach-this-in-the-morning scale than warm, curdled milk.

I wonder how soon the new fridge can be delivered?

Be thankful ~

Karen