Bummed

A dear friend of our family for 30 years now has died.

It's the last of my childhood.

My refridgerator has finally stopped working. She was bought in 1980, while my parents were sill married. First of her kind. Three doors.

Three doors made it difficult to move. Tim said once, that if we ever move again, the refridgerator gets sold with the house.

Is it weird to be attached to an appliance? I mean...I remember when I caught Scottie eating up the last of jello salad really fast before he got caught trying to stuff the empty bowl back in, I've watched my brothers fist fight over the last jug of milk, found Taylor and Mary Margaret sitting in front of if with the door open on both sides trying to cool off, it's held many birthday cakes, its something I've touched everyday for 30 years, when we come home from a long trip I walk in the kitchen and I KNOW I'm home. I know what caused every scratch and dent.

I should probably post some depressing lyrics on facebook like the teenagers do...
"...Throw me down and step all over my heart, ur cold one mintute and hot the next...freezing one mintute and blazing fire the next, I deserve better, but, I just cant live without your love, I will never be the same without your love, your love saved me, now my heart is black without u...i loved you refridgerator..."



Maybe I should get a picture of my fridge tattooed on my back...no wait a minute, Dianna just suggested I get one on my foot so I could see it everyday. One with open doors on one foot and on the other a closed door...let's not stop there... I'll get the washer on one bottom cheek and the dryer on the other...

U all know how crazy I am about my vaccum...Im getting that one down my leg.

I know, I'm strange. It's how I roll.
Jeez, I didn't cry when Drake died last week, but I think I might cry over the fridge!
Off to see a man about a refridgerator!