Those of you who know me know that I am extremely independent. Something which has gotten me into trouble many times. And certainly life would have been much easier if I had allowed myself to be more dependent…I probably would have been married several times by now. But it just doesn’t occur to me to ask for help, and depend on others. Which is why I am limping with a bruised foot.
The refrigerator went out. After have a ton of fresh fruit vegetables and other groceries delivered for the holiday weekend. There was going to be cooking and grilling and feasting. But only if I could get a refrigerator bought and delivered that day. Yes, I could buy and get a refrigerator in the house myself. Why not? Oh, so many reasons….
Finally found one, on sale that I could pick up that same day as it was in stock. New, shiny, black stainless steel. It was beautiful. And tall. And heavy. What was I thinking? The panic of losing that much food must have put me into temporary insanity.
I rented a truck to pick up the fridge and had the guys from the store load it up, figuring I could unload it once home. The thing could only make about 3 of me (again, what was I thinking?). Determined to get it out of the truck, I huffed and puffed, pushed, pulled, and finally gave up after about 45 minutes. It was much to expensive to take any chances of it falling off, or over. When did refrigerators get into the thousands of dollars? I remember w. hen they were almost as affordable as iPhones. I admitted temporary defeat and asked one of the neighbors to help. He did and it was off the truck and in mu garage in about 30 seconds. He asked me why I didn’t just have it delivered like any normal person. (Because it wouldn’t be delivered for another 6 days and all the food would be bad so I naturally decided to do it myself).
A few hours later, after I finished work, I came back to get it into the house. After about 30 minutes of figuring out how to make the laws of physics work in my favor, a friend suggested asking the neighbor who had a dolly for help. No, I could do it myself, once I figured out how. (what was I thinking?).
After another 30 minutes of slowly scooching the fridge little by little, I finally gave it one last scooch…and it happened in slow motion. I could tell the moment it came off of the base of the box. And I grabbed the top of it, my feet coming off of the ground as I desperately tried to stop the inevitable motion that had started. I watched powerless as it came down, slowly at first, then picking up speed as it fell. As my feet touched the ground, and I tried in vain to throw my weight to stop the fall, it came down and landed. On my foot.
“Well, that’s going to hurt in about an hour,” I thought to myself as I struggled to free my foot. Great. I just broke my new fridge and mu old foot in one loud commotion. After getting my foot free, I chastised myself for not asking for help sooner and messaged the neighbor with the dolly. Sure, he would be over on 3 minutes.
Thirty minutes later, he had the refrigerator hooked up, installed and was taking the old one out to the curb for me. I thanked him profusely, grateful to have a young healthy neighbor who was nice enough to help an independent woman reluctant to admit she needed the help. And I gave him some very nice scotch to share with his wife as a thank you.
Life is short. As for help before you topple over the new appliance and have to hobble away in defeat (all puns intended). Trust me, it’s worth it. And never let a klutz try to install anything larger than themselves. It gets dangerous and painful when they get squashed.
Note: The fridge is working fine and is not broken. My foot is fine as well. However, the fridge does have a nice dent where my foot was…and I thought my head was hard.