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Sarrah October Young

The Fridge

My roommate and I have come to a decision. Our landlord is seriously missing something in his brain area. Not only because he still hasn’t fixed the gaping hole in our bathroom ceiling and insists that it isn’t a plumbing issue; it’s a roofing issue (what?!) but because of the fiasco that occurred during the replacement of our refrigerator last week.

We have been asking for a replacement for our fridge for almost a year. We haven’t been able to place food on the left side of it because it would freeze, and we couldn’t use the bottom shelf because water would accumulate there. From where, we don’t know, but we had to keep a towel in the bottom of our fridge to catch the water so it wouldn’t leak out all over the floor. Stupid rentals. Let’s not even discuss the freezer situation. So when we heard that we were finally going to get a new one, we were ecstatic.

My roommate spent a good portion of the evening cleaning out the fridge the night before we were to get our new one. She placed all of our food, which there wasn’t much of due to the freezing thing, into plastic bags, and took down all the pictures from the outside of the door. Everything was clean and easy to move so there shouldn’t have been any trouble for our landlord to simply transfer our food into the new fridge. We forgot however that he is retarded.

When we arrived home that night, we had a new fridge. Hold onto your cries of joy though, for when we opened the door, marveling at the newness of our fridge, we were greeted with a huge mess. Somehow, and I say this sarcastically, the bottle of soy sauce managed to open itself inside the fridge and splatter everywhere. If everything was inside a plastic bag, how could it have come open? Yeah. That’s been keeping me awake ever since. But the real question was where did our bottle of wine go? Did he take it? Did he not see it with the rest of the food and simply threw it out with the other fridge? I’d like to think he didn’t see it, because the other alternative will make me even more paranoid than I am right now. Like, shotgun-wielding paranoid. Who take an opened bottle of wine? Our landlord, that’s who.

We have learned a very valuable lesson. Don’t trust adults.

If you have comments about this article please email us @ comments@shebytches.com. We will post them on the right. Sarrah can be contacted at sarrahoctober@shebytches.com