Once upon a fridge
Once upon a time, in a far, far away land…
[Wait a second. That's too much. Re-think it]
Once upon a time, in my own town…
[That's better, go on]
… people used to live without a fridge. The thing itself had not been invented yet, so they had to do without. And they did remarkably well, as their (and mine) ancestors have been doing for thousands of years.
[You almost put "eons" in there, didn't you? Keep focused]
So my grandfathers used to live without a fridge, and that thought never disturbed me. I occasionally wondered HOW they used to do, but didn’t use too many neurons in real thinking. Never really thought about that.
Till today.
Because today my fridge decided it was time for an holiday, or maybe even the final trip to the Valhalla where all fridges go in the end. I had to trash almost all its content and tried to make it work again but a reboot didn’t work (and that’s disappointing when you work with computers every day).
I therefore called my landlord, who in turn called his fridge-guru, and I finally got to talk with the guru himself. He was kind and didn’t hint at the above mentioned Valhalla, all the same he’s not likely to be here anytime sooner than next Monday.
Today is Thursday, and we’re dead in the middle of an (arguably) nice Italian summer. My thoughts went to my ancestors. The HOW seems important now…
