A complaint

Last week, I spent the better part of an afternoon lovingly cleaning every nook and cranny of my refrigerator. I removed shelves, soaked them in an aromatic bath, wiped them clean, dried them, and reassembled the interior of the machine. I changed the shelf configuration from the factory presets to one that would better serve our needs. I worked hard.

Yesterday, the damn thing broke.

It had, of course, waited for the unseasonably cold weather to stop, and had chosen the hottest day of the year thus far. And a weekend, when repairmen are unlikely to want to come and visit.

As far as I can tell, this narrative suggests that cleaning is a bad thing. Way to teach me a lesson, universe.