Welcome back! In quite the twist of fate / junk kick, the fridge in the kitchen (full of food) decided to die on Labor Day just before we began a triple-digit heat wave. This means we'll be dining out due to electronic necessity on a nearly constant basis. What's worked?
We foolishly thought this could be repaired, but in today's disposable world, the ends didn't justify the means, so any suggestions were welcome. We started with a neighborhood spot, and my choice on a warm evening was a house side salad that came with a roll. I was content with the sal. It was my choice. "That's all you're gonna get?" I was asked. What the hell do you care?
The following day, I tried to snack my way through all non-perishable items, and I flashbacked to college, attempting to make a "meal" around whatever was around. If I was close to full, regardless of what it was, well...mission accomplished. Pistachios, cheese and crackers (the cheese saved in the beer fridge) and an apple sufficed. This isn't far from my typical lunch anyway, but I also knew I couldn't do this for much longer.
An early and successful choice for dinner was a local Columbian restaurant which is sensational on all fronts. Lately, despite my attempts to try all the entrees that interest me on the menu, I returned to the Pollo en Salsa Verde. No, it's not an exclusively Columbian dish, but many Columbian dishes at this location include carrots which, as we know, are the enemy. Besides, they have an extensive "fast food" menu, one the Big Scoop has chosen since we've moved here and the burgers & chicken sandos are top notch. After a stressful day revealing the realities where I actually had to, again, defend the li'l beer fridge in the garage having (what I was told was) "too much beer", I shoveled it away happily, ignoring most conversation. It wasn't aimed or geared towards me anyway.
The prices are adding up, and the new fridges won't arrive until the following Tuesday (for fuck's sake...) so I started to think about how I could go out and get something cheap. I didn't say delicious and inexpensive, so in my strive for just that, I tried to rationalize a Jr. Whopper with cheese. About halfway through, I gave the rest to the dog. What am I doing?! Sandwiches became my life for lunch as the week ended as the temps crossed 105 daily. The Sub Marine King himself shared his plight as I waited for the order. 105 outside means life isn't fun inside a kitchen, he intimated, even if we're all ordering cold sandos and cups of ice to hold up to our heads.
Friday, I went to the supermarket, looking longingly at items I couldn't purchase because I had no way to store them, ordering a meat n potatoes meal with green beans just to eat something square even though I was on my own food endurance run at this point. A nightfall where it was a "cool" 97 brought a local pizza place where fans were going a plenty. This place, too, confirms that temps that hot next to ovens are not enjoyable for the employees. The Big Scoop and I overate salad because...fuck, I don't know anymore. I don't...why am I doing any of this?!
By college football Saturday, I stayed cool with the sangria (it's a beer fridge, so it gets priority) as we all rooted on Northern Illinois like any other good citizen. I tried to assimilate the changes to my preferred surroundings, but how many god damned sandwiches can a man put away? Should put away?!
By Sunday morning (you didn't see the sun was up, you felt it) a deviation was suggested, so overpriced empanadas did the trick. Upon picking up the order under the glare of Mr. Sun, the kitchen help at this establishment also concurred that sitting by an oven, as a restaurant's AC does its damndest, is not preferrable either. I'm sensing a trend.
That evening, as I tried to save what plants and trees I could (you can't water in the dark if you can't see, but if it's hotter than shit when the sun is up, too, well you're just fucked either way aren't you?) I was told she was making dinner. As sweat poured over me, I gasped out a "fine." I don't know that there was enough time in-between these chores and eating, and my body continued to pay for it the following day.
The new week started with some depression - I knew it was the last full day of this predicament, but it just seemed unending. That and it was 106 outside. I don't even remember if I ate anything during the day; just mainlining anything cold to drink, admittedly short with anyone who dared to press me with unneeded questions. Yap yap yap. It's fucking hot as shit. WHAT.
The statistic is that kids make 80% of the decisions on where to eat once the parents make the decision to go out to eat. I cared but was too weak to put up a fight. I didn't fight where we sat in a Mediterranean restaurant that hits more than it misses, and there we were next to a couple and their young boy. We might as well have been eating in their apartment, because this annoying fucking kid was doing all the annoying-ass things loopy parents let their kids do in public. (An aside- once at a casual Beverly Hills eatery, a couple who thought it was a good idea for them to spawn let their offspring scream over and over without putting up a fight. When they finally left and were near the door, the entire restaurant broke into a thunderous applause.) By this point, I had crossed the dividing line - I ignored usual politeness, shoveled it away, kept the iced tea flowing, and let the one-liners loose because I had little left and all that was in the tank were the zingers I've kept in reserves so that MY offspring doesn't misuse the skill. Look at me - I can't even compare restaurant experiences. I'm worn out. This is not a comparison done in frivolity but in desperation, and my ability to pretend is over.
And so, yesterday, when it was "only" 95, 2 no-nonsense guys arrived with new fridges. I offered help, but also offered to stay out of their way. Not everything was as easy as they claimed, but maybe if felt that way to them when you do what they do, I guess. Things are cold. So, finally, are the temps outside. So is my temperament, or at least its trending that way. And looking back, maybe it's my emotion making this a bigger deal than it was, but I'm not sure. Maybe it was someone asking me "what are we gonna do?" over and over on a daily basis that did it. Or the heat? I'll need to get my strength up if I'm going to party again, but how? Only my future knows that, and it's insisting I find out for myself.
