From the tropics to the freezer
After the picture perfect location for my last post from gorgeous Bali, I’m now writing from a house in complete disarray as I prepare to (finally!) move over the next four to five days. Please understand this is a theoretical projection, so if I’m still posting about moving in two weeks, try to be patient with me …
This week has been the weird aftermath of all travel - coming home, feeling like you’ve changed, but nothing is different. Miss M has suffered from jet lag, or JL as it’s come to be known, and has been slightly tough to deal with, but I think I’ve probably been just as bad.
By far the worst part of our return was nothing to do with sleeping or eating patterns, missing the tropics or strange reactions to drinking coffee again. It was my inability to open my freezer.
I think it was the third day after we were home we’d gone to the supermarket and I’d bought some frozen cherries to make a summer pudding with. As I tried to put them into the freezer, I was met with staunch resistance. Not just “oh, that’s hard to open so I have to put my back into it”, but “that freezer is stuck solid, and even my foot up on the fridge isn’t giving me the leverage I need”. After ten solid minutes of yanking with all my might, finally the mighty door swung open to reveal an ice cavern the likes I haven’t seen since “Touching the Void”.
Any normal person would just have defrosted the damn thing and been done with it. By I had a whole lot of things in there that would’ve had to be thrown out, and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I scanned my kitchen implements for the most suitable ice chiselling device, settling on my favorite wooden spoon.
Soon chips of ice were falling on the floor, but my beloved spoon lost several large chunks of wood in the process, so I turned my attention to leverage, and grabbed a large carving knife. I was careful not to put my hands anywhere near the blade, and had pretty good success getting some large pieces of frozen material out, but soon the knife started terrifying me as I had visions of myself lying in a David Lynchesque pile of blood covered ice.
My final choice was a hammer, and if I’d been thinking straight, I would’ve gone for this immediately. I smashed through the ice within moments, and even managed not to pierce the intrinsic workings of the freezer. I was quite proud. So I say defrosting is for chumps - what you really need is a destruction crew of one, with a nicely hefted hammer.