For as loosey-goosey as I tend to be, I am a planner.
I generally have a mile-long list in my head of things I plan to tackle in a day.
Last Thursday, cleaning behind the fridge was NOT on that list.
Alas, something started leaking. It took a while to figure out what that something was, and a while after that to decide that the only fix we knew hadn’t fixed anything.
Soooo, we pulled the fridge out from the wall and turned off the water.
Fine. By “we” . . . I really mean Hubby.
Unfortunately, with our humongous-because-isn’t-bigger-always-better fridge pulled out into the middle of our heavily-trafficked kitchen, I could no longer pretend that the area generally hidden behind the fridge didn’t exist.
For most of the day, I gave it dirty looks every time I passed by.
And then, after the final maybe-it’s-magically-fixed-now attempt at turning the water back on, it was time to decide that we will live without my much-loved-water-in-the-fridge-door for a while and put it back in place.
So I said, “Hold on a minute, Honey!” and got out the broom. I should have also grabbed the mop, but didn’t.
My Slob Brain was satisfied knowing it was So Much Better and fell back on the who’s-going-to-ever-see-it-anyway rationale that I love so much.
Now to decide if it’s worth it to have the fridge fixed when there’s also the issue of multiple broken shelves that keep the drawers from closing which causes the door to sometimes pop open.
Thankfully, I’m rather adaptable, and can work around annoyances like this fairly easily.
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