From sound slumber to melting ice cream
When it’s night time and you’re fast asleep, being abruptly awakened by something or someone is nothing short of startling.
On this we can probably agree.
Well it was night time the other day (or it was dark outside anyway) and I was fast asleep, in one of those deep, satisfying slumber modes, snug as a bug in the warmth of my comforter, my head making its proper impressions on those My Pillow pillows, when I suddenly sensed someone was approaching me.
Then I heard a familiar voice and lots of vocabulary. The language could have been Chinese or German for all my sleeping brain would allow me to filter and decipher.
I opened my eyes fast and wide to see Better Half standing at the bedside, his attention directed at me.
His mouth was moving, words flowing from it, information that apparently was intended for me to reach out and absorb, embrace and act upon with some sense of urgency.
I suddenly felt like I was Arnold Schwarzenegger’s cyborg assassin character in “The Terminator,” using my extra special vision powers to look around the room and assess what was happening, to make sense of the situation.
“The ice cream has all melted!”
That’s the next thing I heard, but it wasn’t immediately clear why unsolidified ice cream was somehow relevant to someone who was minding her own business, sleeping.
“Something’s wrong with the freezer!” Better Half kept talking, assuming I was listening and processing and understanding. “And something’s wrong with the refrigerator,” he added, as if one situation weren’t dire enough.
Liquid ice cream is pretty sad stuff.
Out of bed I bounded, not exactly thrilled to be recruited for Operation Freezer-Refrigerator Malfunction, but I obviously had no choice in the matter. It’s not that I had a solution or quick fix to this situation, but as mother/wife of the household, this required my intervention/participation.
So we were now on a mission — the Three Stooges that we are, counting son Adam — to relocate the contents of the refrigerator and the freezer from the refrigerator in the warm kitchen to the spare refrigerator in the cold garage.
Ten o’clock at night is not when you want to realize that you have not only one refrigerator that needs some serious cleaning, but two. That reality added to rude awakenings from deep sleep are not especially mama-mood enhancing.
Better Half started putting stuff in plastic grocery bags for us to haul off to the other refrigerator, a scenario that played out with the ferocity of someone using a tablespoon to bale water out of a sinking rowboat.
He had salvaged his beloved runny ice cream into Tupperware bowls for transport.
Back and forth we went, grumbling about how this refrigerator wasn’t that old. Don’t tell me we’re getting a refrigerator for Christmas!
Well, halfway through all this food relocation effort, there came this funny noise.
The refrigerator started running — more than we were back and forth. It started working again. What??!!
I was happy about that, but not what you’d call amused.
Even so, it did warrant a drink of ice cream.
(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and community editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times. She can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.)