Followers

Showing posts with label broken. Show all posts
Showing posts with label broken. Show all posts

Monday, 5 November 2012

Everything under control

During my week of absence in London, Mr. Swiss was in charge and really had everything under control. The cats were happy (they did not even notice I was not there) and between my son and Mr. Swiss the household was in good hands, so what could possibly happen.

I was in contact most of the time, thanks to my iPhone and the Skype app that I had, meaning that all calls to Mr. Swiss and return would cost nothing, as he had the Skype app on his iPhone as well. Sometimes I think we do not even communcate with conversation any more. His computer is within messaging distance to mine at home. I was even picking up mails and sending mails to him from London from my own mail address - in today's world you are never alone.

Anyhow, I am drifting off the subject once again (as usual). Now Mr. Swiss did warn me that something went wrong a day before I returned home. He said the fridge door had broken, the bottom hinge had a spring in it and the spring had broken. This meant that the fridge door could no longer be closed. Imaging a kitchin full of thawed out food, liquid ice cream and mould cultivations on the cheese and meat and other perishable items, I asked about getting it repaired. He said everything under control and he was in contact with the fridge company. 

When I arrived home, this was the fridge that greeted me.



Fridge door kaput

The company informed that they would send a repair man on Friday (Mr. Swiss phoned on Tuesday). Of course he argued that a fridge should be kept tightly closed at all times, but they recommended using sticky tape in the meanwhile which would solve the problem until the man arrived. Luckily we had two rolls of wide brown tape left over from a repair job (cannot remember what the problem was at the time) and so the tape was renewed every time the fridge door was opened and closed.

This was not easy and both our logistical powers and organisation talents were called for. You no longer just opened the fridge to take out the butter, or the jam, or the milk or whatever and closed it again afterwards. No, you had to sort of do collective opening and closing sessions, meaning that when you had breakfast you thought about what you needed for lunch and tried to get it all out at once and put in a cool place to keep. Sticking the door together two or three times a day was OK, but think about how often you really open the fridge door and close it. Yes, well you see the problem we had. All coca cola bottles were now in the garden cupboard, luckily just next to the french  window leading to the kitchen, as well as a few other perishables, making sure that it was all nicely packed in plastic containers (it was late Autumn, when the mice start looking for comfortable living quarters for the Winter). 

The main thing was to ensure that the temperature did not drop in the fridge and that the motor started working overtime. Mr. Swiss even found a thermometer which we put in the fridge to keep an eye on how cold (or warm) it was. Eventually our rescuer arrived on Friday from the fridge company. One of those taciturn, tight lipped people, that put every word on the scale before using it. His answers to our questions were basically yes and no, if he answered at all. It was probably not his best day. I was thinking  perhaps the cat did not come home during night, he might have had an argument with his wife who had either left home, or he had killed on the evening before and was still wondering how to get rid of the evidence. Or pehaps he decided for such a routine job and two senior citizens, it was just not worth the effort. The main thing was he solved our problem by attaching a new hinge on the lower door. He then said goodbye and left. Mr. Swiss and I were debating about sending an e-mail to his company with a complaint, but on the other hand we were rejoicing knowing that the fridge was now working and we could open and close the door as much as we needed.

I was particularly glad, as if it is one thing I do not like it is warm chocolate (it has to come from the fridge for me) and milk that has under temperature (it just is not the same from the garden shed). 

I now look at my fridge with other eyes. Not to be taken for granted. There might be a curse lurking somewhere in the dark waiting for a chance to take revenge on us by forcing the light to burn when opening the door. You never know.