Our chest freezer broke last week, and the refrigerator broke this week- this week, when I was supposed to butcher chickens. Coincidence? I think not.
We bought a new freezer and a new refrigerator. This was the new refrigerator:
The temperature stabilized at sixty degrees. In the freezer. On the day I was supposed to butcher chickens.
Those chickens. Talking. Always talking. What are they talking about? I don’t know! I don’t speak chicken! All I know is, new refrigerators are supposed to make things cooler. And it didn’t. I mean, ten degrees cooler than the house. Basically, it wasn’t working. And I couldn’t butcher chickens. Because they would rot and we would all get salmonella and die.
We got another refrigerator to replace the first one. The first one to replace the broken one. (Not the first one, really, that was the broken one.)
It looks like this:
It works, and you know what that means. Thirty-eight degrees inside the refrigerator. Those chickens’ days are numbered.