On the last day of January, a Friday, E suddenly fell sick with a fever in school. I was with M at a check up at the pediatrician's office, and so had to delay picking her up for a while, and felt pretty stressed and bad about that. Anyway we stayed home that weekend, and on Saturday evening M started to feel warm and show symptoms too. On Monday I kept E home just in case, and by late afternoon she was down with a fever again. By Tuesday Jon was starting to feel sick, and by Thursday I was definitely 100% sick and feeling shitty. As an adult however, I still had things to do. That Thursday schools were closed too, because of a snow/ice storm, but I had to send out a stack of time sensitive registered mails for our renovation permit. So for the first time in a long while, I wore a face mask and went to the post office, and then got groceries after.
That week sucked. The kids basically missed school all week. Although they were sick, they largely seemed unaffected by it, because they were as hyper as usual. For the adults however, we were wiped. Then because my brother-in-law and his family from Florida were visiting, we met up with them at The Buffet with my parent-in-laws. I don't know if it was the food I consumed even though I was still feeling unwell, but that incident triggered horrible GERD symptoms in me. For that night and the rest of the week, I'd wake up in the middle of the night and be unable to fall asleep for hours, and I didn't even know what the problem was until days later when I was basically about to have a breakdown from lack of sleep. I don't know how I made it through that week except through lots of prayer and willpower.
Anyway it's been a month, but my stomach is still messed up. Usually I take my stomach medicine once a day, but now I have been taking it twice a day. The last time I tried to test the waters last week, I was again punished by a middle-of-the-night wake up for hours until the medicine kicked in. My craving for flavourful food has gone down the drain, and so mild wraps are now my desired lunchtime food. Even the thought of a chicken/tuna mayonnaise sandwich seems too 'tasty' for me. It's like I'm pregnant again, except there is no baby as a promised reward this time (not that I want another baby, I am barely coping with two).
Amidst all this fun stuff, was the weather, and our fridge breaking down, and the fact that I had volunteered to bring pears to church for fruit baskets. The church we attend has the Sunday School kids bringing in different types of fruit to make fruit baskets for homebound parishioners on special occasions. The last time was for Christmas/Advent, and this time was for Valentine's Day. The usual fruits that you can sign up to bring are oranges, apples, bananas, and pears - and almost always no one wants to bring pears. Per pound, pears are usually the most expensive and they also have the shortest shelf life. So because we signed up late (We weren't going to go that week because we were going to meet with in-laws, as mentioned earlier), and only because an email was sent out mid-week asking for people to contribute. So, like a sucker for a plea, I agreed to bring 2x bags of pears (for 2x kids).
Then of course all hell broke loose later that week with the adults falling sick. So even feeling like shit on that Thursday, when I had to go to the post office, I went and purchased $18 of pears at the grocery store, because I was feeling too sick to go to another, cheaper, grocery store (and the weather was also bad). Then Friday morning rolls around, and it turns out another winter storm is predicted for late Saturday night/Sunday morning, so they have decided TO POSTPONE THE FRUIT BASKET MAKING TO THE FOLLOWING WEEK. So now I had 16 pears, and I knew we weren't going to finish 16 pears, and those pears were not going to last the week.
I drove around with the pears in the car that day (7th Feb), thinking of what to do with the pears. I even thought about offering them to random parents at E's school pick up, but I thought that was too weird even for me. Instead when I went to Kumon, I offered them to Miss Debbie, E's teacher. Turns out Miss Debbie likes pears, and so I give her 6. Then as a joke to one of the kids sitting next to E, I offer him pears. Then it strikes me that his dad, who I have been friendly with, and spoken to a few times, is probably waiting in his car in the parking lot, so I go out to look for him and offer him 6 pears too, and he happily accepts them. Although I am happy that the pears did not go to waste, I am annoyed that I had to pay through the nose for the pears, and still have to repurchase them next week.
Then Saturday night, the fridge starts making loud noises. We can't tell what's wrong with it. Sunday morning Jon thinks the freezer is not working, because things are starting to melt. It is still cold out and in the house, so it's hard to tell what is happening - we think maybe the refrigerator is just not cooling very well, but that it still 80% works. Monday I am so out of it and exhausted because I haven't slept, and the fridge still seems cool. I am preoccupied with trying to stay alive, cook, do chores, and bring E to her Girl Scouts meeting while watching M in the library. I feel like death.
Tuesday I start to wonder if the fridge is really kaput, and I open the freezer and everything has thawed. There is blood from meat everywhere, and it has mixed with melted ice cream. I see it and want to throw up. I am so exhausted, sick, and miserable, I almost have a breakdown, except maybe I am too tired to even lose it. Jon orders a small fridge from Amazon, scheduled to arrive on Wednesday. For 24h the reality hits that we have no fridge, and I don't know to provide and take care of my family and I still feel physically like death. M keeps trying to eat cheese from the broken fridge. I think Jon bought take out that night, I don't remember.
Wednesday comes and I still feel physically wretched. My stomach is so messed up I can't even nap, or if I do it's a very light sleep for only 10 minutes at a go. I feel like collapsing. Just before I leave to pick E up, the fridge comes. It's a decent size, a little bigger than a mini fridge. It's about the same size as the fridge I had in my dormitory room when I was in Teacher's College. When E is at her gymnastics class, I drag my sorry ass over to the nearby Shoprite to buy some things for dinner, like a rotisserie chicken, and some basic supplies like milk. I also decide to repurchase the pears, because I felt so sick I didn't know if I would be able to make another trip to a grocery store before Sunday. I viciously decide to pick smaller sized pears this time, and pack only 7 per bag instead of 8 like I did last week. The bill is still probably $15 or some absurd figure - why are pears so goddamn expensive???
This of course, brings rise to another problem, where do I store the pears? If I keep them inside the house, they will ripen quickly and spoil. I can't put them in the fridge either, because we simply have no space. Every time we need to put anything into the fridge, it's like a mini Tetris game. So, I tie the pears up in a reusable bag, and leave them outside by our back door. It's where I also put some cans of seltzer, because there is no space for them in the fridge either. It being February, the weather is of course still nuts. One day it snows and turns into rain, and the other it drops way below freezing. Two of the seltzer cans swell until it looks like they are about to explode. But I still have no place to put the pears and so I leave them outside, and every time I wonder what is happening to them with the crazy temperatures they are subject to, I am filled with grim resentment. I resent these fucking pears and I hope they suffer from the vagaries of the weather. I only agreed to purchase and bring them to church, I didn't promise to take care of the pears in the interim. I notice the bag also moves around a little, but I didn't think much of it.
Somewhere around Thursday I realise that I am probably suffering from bad GERD. I have been having heartburn, which is why I wake up wide awake at 2am and then am unable to fall asleep until hours later. I end up take my GERD medication twice a day, and I am able to sleep again. While I have been suffering from GERD, my other cold symptoms have completely disappeared. Jon on the other hand, has still gotten bad lingering symptoms and is exhausted too. I don't remember what happens that Saturday night, but when we wake up on Sunday I know we are not going to church that day, but I still need to deliver the pears. E wakes up around 10am, and Jon goes to take a nap around that time. Around 10:50am after dragging my feet all morning I finally go to get ready just so I could drop the pears off at church after service. Before leaving I retrieve the bag from the back door, and to my (slight) dismay, I realise there are small chew marks on two of the pears. The squirrels must have somehow wriggled their faces in and given the two of the pears little teeth scrapes. Whatever, not my problem.
I drive over to church, and I am still grumpy as hell. I bring the fruits to the parlor, where the fruit basket assembly is to take place, running into various people. I tell them about the ordeal I had with the pears, and they are all sympathetic about the broken fridge and having to throw food out. Even though I am still resentful and annoyed about the pears, my mood does shift a little as I start to interact with friends. Then as I am hanging around, Julie appears, and while racing around like a madwoman she asks if I have time to help pack the fruit baskets. Considering that this is the rare time I don't have kids to take care of at church, I grudgingly agree, and so then I find myself helping with the fruit baskets. I team up with N, Julie's son to pack the bags together, and it is fun guiding him to pack 2 bananas and etc. in each paper bag (not a literal basket). I am less pissed about the pears, but I have fulfilled my promise, and I know the pears will be appreciated by their recipients.
It's been almost one and a half weeks since this nonsense wrapped up, and even now as I recall the whole ordeal of the pears, I am still irritated. It's just one of those ridiculous things in life when the shit hits the fan all at the same time, and it's so absurdly mundane yet aggravating. So anyway, fuck pears.
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