The fridge just died.

I noticed it this morning, when my milk wasn’t quite as cold as it usually was. Probably only someone as anal-retentive about their milk being ice cold as me would have noticed. But now it’s blazingly obvious. It’s already cooled off enough that everything in the freezer has defrosted.

I can hear the compressor cycling on, then cycling back off after just a few seconds, then repeating the cycle after a couple minutes. I tried turning the thermostat down to its coldest setting in the (admittedly vain) hope that the problem would go away. Naturally it didn’t. Having conferred with the landlord (a.k.a. my dad) we’ve officially declared it dead. Now I get to get up early tomorrow and go to Home Despot, buy a new one, and hope I can figure out some way to get it home.

(Getting it home isn’t the hard part. Getting it down the stairs is the hard part.)

Getting it delivered the same day is unlikely, but professional delivery would probably be the best option, as it means somebody other than me gets to haul it down the stairs.

This is why I didn’t want to be a landlord!

As a side note, I’m glad I cheerfully ignored the advice I got to get rid of my old mini-fridge. Buying that thing has turned out to be one of the smartest decisions I ever made. I had no idea at the time.