Wednesday, Aug. 15, 2007
Dear Diary:

"Don't forget your poo," I said to the spousal unit as he headed out the door for work.

These are the things they don't warn you about when you think about getting married. You're young and it's all about the hormones. No one ever warns you that there could be poo in your future. Not to mention in your fridge.

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Ever since the spousal unit's mom died of bowel cancer last year, I've been nagging encouraging him to get himself screened. So when he went in to the doctor for his annual check-up last week, the spousal unit mentioned my concerns. Our doctor decided to do a poop screening to see if there's blood in the spousal unit's stool. If there is, they'll bring in the heavy guns and he'll have a colonoscopy.

The spousal unit toddled home with three white heavy duty plastic containers with snap on lids, labels for said lids, and detailed instructions on what he could and could not eat. There was two days of a cleansing diet to purge his body of red meat, beets, tomatoes and beer. Then for three days he had to maintain this diet and collect a bit of daily poo.

Said poo had to be stored in the fridge because, heaven help us, we couldn't have the poo go bad or anything. The whole concept of poo freshness has never crossed my mind before this experience. As well, I have just added the job "Poo Inspector" to the long list of Jobs I Am Incredibly Grateful That I Do Not Have To Do.

See? You never stop learning, no matter how old you get.

Our fridge is only slightly younger than our daughter who is a hair under 30. Said fridge has been wheezing for quite a while and randomly freezing things. It particularly hates cucumbers and eggs. I've known for a while its days are numbered. We've had it repaired once, and the repair guy told us that if it went wonky again it wasn't worth fixing another time because, well, everything was starting to go on it.

So right after day one of The Great Poo Collection, the fridge began to make truly alarming sounds. Despite the fact the spousal unit's Poo One was hermetically sealed in its plastic container and then triple wrapped in sealed plastic bags, and the fact that the fridge has been slowly dying for the last year, I cheerfully blamed its sudden nosedive on the horror of the spousal unit's poo, to his great indignation.

Really, I have much, too much fun at this man's expense.

You'll notice that among the things contraindicated on the spousal unit's diet is beer. The man loves him his nightly beer with his supper. Going without his brew for five days is probably against the Geneva Conventions. The thought that the fridge might die, his poo lose its required freshness, thus forcing him to restart the whole process and go more beer free days, well that, THAT was intolerable.

I hopped into the Marnmobile and began fridge hunting. I was not a happy woman.

I hate buying big ticket appliances. I know that there are people out there who upgrade their kitchens constantly, but for me none of that matters. I think about the money that goes into a fridge and to me it represents five dump trucks' worth of compost. FIVE DUMP TRUCKS WORTH OF COMPOST I HAVE TO DO WITHOUT.

You can well imagine my bitterness.

I tried to find a good second hand fridge, but this is exactly the wrong time of year to do that. Kids are heading off to college or university and their parents have snapped up all the good used fridges for dorm rooms. That hopeless quest took away two hours of my life I'm not getting back.

You can well imagine my bitterness.

Okay, new appliance it would have to be.

At appliance store one they had limited selection. I felt like Goldilocks. That fridge was too big. The next fridge was too small. The next fridge was just right for size, but it wasn't Energy Star rated and if I'm going to buy a new appliance, I'm going to buy one that is energy efficient.

I had started the quest disgruntled. I exited store one feeling grumpy clouds massing on the horizon.

At appliance store two I was met by Slicky McSlickerton, appliance salesman extraordinaire. About five minutes into dealing with this man I could see he was going to try to oversell me, push me to buy more fridge than I wanted. Suck me into the waste of money that is the extended warranty.

The grumpy clouds, previously a glimmer on the horizon, gathered over my head. When Slicky continued to try to oversell me, refused to negotiate the price down on the fridge I wanted, AND wanted to charge me $50 for delivery and dealing with my old fridge, we parted ways.

There was one final appliance store and after that it was another half hour to a bigger town. I trudged into store three with little hope in my heart. I was met by a woman my age and I told her what I was looking for. She had it. It was on sale. There was an additional $50 in food coupons for my local grocery store. Free delivery. Free removal of my old fridge.

I felt like weeping. Part of that was the joy of finally being done with the horror of fridge shopping. Part of it was the loss of FIVE DUMPTRUCKS OF COMPOST. I love me my dirt.

Fridges? Not so much.

A few hours later the delivery truck from the store ground up the hill to our home, disgorged the new fridge and trundled away with our ancient wheezer. The delivery man, as they always do, enquired if we live in this house full time. I assured him that we do, but in the winter we can only get here by snowmobile.

Was it my imagination, or did he back away slowly towards his truck at the mention of such lunacy?

Must have been my imagination.

Our old fridge had a personality of sorts, constantly rumbling, wheezing and occasionally making a clunking sound. This fridge is much more reticent, mostly silent, from time to time softly humming to itself. I find this slightly creepy, kind of like having Hal in my kitchen.

However, it is also rated to use less than $40 a year in power, which will leave me more money for dirt in the long run, I'm hoping. I could learn to accept Hal if it eventually means more dirt.

This morning the spousal unit took his poo in to be tested. The new fridge did not die overnight, so it clearly has enough Fu that it can stand up to spousal unit poo.

Hrm. Strong AND silent. There's something to be said for that, eh?

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 314.09 miles Ten percent there rubber duck. Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Half way there

Going Nowhere Collaboration

Goal for 2007: 500 miles


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