Like a Metaphor

 So last night I noticed the electric thermostat of the fridge was being weird so I set it back to default setting and said to myself, Keep an eye on that. This morning I checked it and the temp was 54 and rising. Fuck. So we threw out a bunch of the stuff we had prepared for today's cookout because no way do we want to make our friends sick. The freezer was rising but was still in the safe range so I texted friends; we rescued a bunch of stuff out of there at least. Another friend brought over a cooler and we repurposed the mini-fridge Scott keeps in his office to cool his drinks. Scott then went out to buy some more food so we could feed people.

While all of this was happening I tried to bake my grandma's fudge cake, which I had been kind of fantasizing about all summer long. Well I ended up leaving it in the oven too long and it came out dry and sad. I angsted for a few minutes, fretting; should I proceed and feed friends subpar cake?? (NEVER!!) What did I have stuff on hand for that I could do last minute? Well with no eggs and no milk, not much. So I said fuckit and made fudge. Simple but tasty, okay.

Then it materialized that half our guests ended up cancelling. A little bit of a bummer, but so it goes. And nonetheless we had fun and sent people off with leftovers and are making plans to get a repair person and back-up plans, like, suppose we end up needing a new fridge? Can we make that happen? (Thankfully, yes.)

But when I calmed down a bit I thought how this was all some kind of metaphor for ::gestures at everything::. Everything going wrong. Doing our best to fix it and make temporary fixes and hopefully, permanent solutions. Getting our friends to help out. Etc. It was weirdly comforting?

Anyway. Remember today is a day for revolutions.