This morning, five minutes after I’m supposed to have taken the kids to school, the fridge had an emotional collapse. Maybe it was the thought of all those Thanksgiving leftovers. Maybe it just felt under-appreciated. Whatever the cause, it decided that was a good time to drop a shelf–the one holding the milk jug, of course.
The milk fell to the floor, split, and splattered in a six feet radius. The walls, the pantry, me, and at least four feet onto the carpet in the family room.
My husband started mopping up, I ran the kids to school and bought some carpet cleaner, and now, almost three hours later, it’s just about cleaned up. Of course, we won’t know for sure until any overlooked milk spills have had a chance to sour. . . so if you’re travelling through NC this week and smell the aroma of spoiled milk, have a little laugh to yourself. You just drove by our house.
