Yesterday morning, I was up bright and relatively early-ish (6 am). I went downstairs to push “go” on the coffee maker and get Alvie Bean’s food ready to go for the day. I packed yogurt & blueberries, meat & cheese, banana, peas, and snacks (beet & berry fruit pouch & a Mum Mum cracker). All that was left was the milk. I pulled the gallon of whole milk out of the fridge (we go through almost 2 gallons a week between the Bean and the cooking). There was maybe 1/4 gallon left. I poured it into his pint jar that we use for transportation purposes. And it poured in chunks.
There are very few things I find more disgusting than spoiled dairy products. It’s possible that is because when I get migraines, one of the first warning signs is olfactory hallucinations of sour milk. It’s also possible it’s just because spoiled milk is gross. Either way, that was not what I was hoping for at 6 am, pre-coffee.
The expiration date on the organic (i.e. ultra-pasteurized, never spoiling) milk was June 26. It had been fine the night before (I hope – we gave some to the Bean and he drank it, anyway). I opened the fridge and started feeling things, which I’m sure would’ve looked weird if anyone had been watching.
I noticed that things were not so much cold as approaching lukewarm. And there was a distinct odor to fridge that was not so good. I rechecked the Bean’s yogurt and that smelled okay. I opened the freezer, and everything was still frozen solid. So, I did what anyone would do in a similar situation. I woke up the architect and then went to the market to get some new milk.
We turned the temp down in the fridge during the day, and when I returned home, I noticed that although the freezer stuff was still frozen solid, the fridge stuff was barely cold enough – and it should’ve been almost frozen.
We went out to dinner and discussed new fridges, budgets, finances, etc. I’m sure anyone eavesdropping on us was fascinated! We decided on our new fridge budget (we had to take into consideration how long we’d be in the house yet, and whether or not we’d take it with us when we moved, and other very exciting factors). The architect determined that Saturday morning, he and the Bean would go fridge shopping while I went swimming, bought a tent, and got the oil changed on my car (in preparation for an upcoming camping and road trip). (The oil change & the tent, the swimming is not in preparation for that.)
When we returned home, the fridge was still holding on to barely cold enough, so we put the milk in a large bowl of ice to avoid a repeat of the chunky incident (that even sounds gross), and went to bed.
This morning? Everything was delightfully cold; almost frozen even. So maybe the fridge just had a 24-hour flu and fever? And now it’s all better. I am hoping this was a temporary illness, but the architect and I are both afraid that this is just a brief remission in an otherwise fatal disease. We will be moving all of our freezer items to the chest freezer while on our road trip, and emptying the fridge of anything that would be disgusting if it spoiled over the course of a week.
The most horrible part of this whole thing is that I am so involved in a fridge dying process. And I care deeply about it, and have had many a discussion about it, and it’s a FRIDGE! When did this happen? When did fridge replacement become the most scintillating topic of conversation I could come up with? Is it a by-product of parenting? Home ownership? Adulthood?
I just want to talk about gin (the world’s supply is in danger due to a juniper fungus! Time to stock up!) and cute boys, and trail running.
And maybe this guy: