Yesterday we decided to defrost the mini-fridge. Our mini-fridge is technically my husband’s domain. It holds all the beer for him because I don’t actually like beer. He subscribes to the theory that “all beer is good, some beer is better.” In our mini-fridge he has at least 10 different types of beer to choose from on any given night. But this is a slice for another day.
Yesterday we decided to defrost the mini-fridge. Paul, my husband, decided to put all the beer in shopping bags next to the space for the fridge. Since it was so nice out last night, we moved the fridge to the deck so the ice in the freezer could melt out there, instead of in our house on our hardwood floors.
Today the fridge was ready to come back in. He wiped it clean and we plugged it in. He left to go grocery shopping (something I have proven unable to do time and time again) and I stayed behind to prepare for the day. I took it upon myself to restock the beer fridge. Bottles, cans, soda and beer all found their rightful place back in the fridge. Only I neglected to turn it on.
This evening Paul went for a beer out of the now defrosted and cleaned mini-fridge. Only his beer was warm and the fridge was off. As he put it: I am “sweet and a torturous witch, all at the same time.” I guess I won’t have to do this job ever again either. Now if I could just find a way to get out of doing the laundry. 🙂