So here we were waiting for the third act of the Ceiling Drama (see Chicken Little Wasn't Kidding)–
Act One – stain, denial, union of ceiling to floor, more denial, drip, drip
Act Two – living room furniture piled together as though a giant hand had lifted one corner, men with mysterious gadgets testing for water, saws, fans, plumber.
Act Three – yet to be staged – de-furnituring the room completely, men on stilts, and, ultimately, new ceiling.
I had tidied the house that day and yesterday evening the two of us were each happily settled for the evening.
Moron that I am, and completely forgetting about the gods of whimsy, I burrowed a little deeper
into the couch and remarked, “Isn’t it nice to have everything back in place
and the house back to normal?”
Mr. WW nodded agreement and went to the fridge for a snack but soon said, “Well, that can’t be good.”
Me, “What is it?”
He, “There’s no light in the freezer.” And then in the same spirit as the three bears’ discoveries, “And there’s no light in the fridge.”
I now have an exciting new appointment in my calendar for next week, more men to enter my life, and a shiny new $200 controller board coming for our big white friend.
Oh, and the aerobic bonus of a trip to the tiny basement fridge every time I want an egg.