Or, as The Message paraphrases the first half of Proverbs 16:18, “First pride, then the crash….”
When DH came home the other day, I led him right back out to the garage, where I pointed with pride to the sparkling freezer and received his kudos. Did I notice that the motor wasn’t running and that it wasn’t really all that cold inside? I did today, when I went out for some … frozen … corn for lunch. No chilly blast greeted me. The iciest thing in there was the color of the boxes. Something was dripping.
I couldn’t have been more disgusted. Turned it off, turned it on. Repeated that sequence about half a dozen times. Checked the plug, the outlet, the breaker box. Moved the freezer out from the wall. (Yikes!) Had my super-speedy work broken, severed or disconnected something? No, we concluded that this 30+-year-old geezer freezer just couldn’t stand all the attention and had simply rolled over and died.
Now, to save the food. Dry ice? No one around has it. New freezer? About twice as much as I thought it would cost, but luckily it could be delivered on Sunday. (Who would have thought?) Free delivery, free take-away. Thank you, Lowes. A bunch o’ bags of regular ice will get us through to tomorrow.
So, no anniversary dinner for us — I’ll be cooking cold (but not frozen) food on the grill. Fresh green beans from the second planting, fresh potatoes, toffee-pecan bars for dessert. Maybe some wine.