The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men–um–jumped out the window, because their refrigerator at their lake house conked out on a holiday weekend. But because I am mouse who is usually okay with Plan B, the weekend was not a wash-out. (Which is good, because the clothes dryer is currently held together with a bungee cord.)
So here are two strong men trussing the dead fridge to haul it away.
And here’s the reason it probably died: three jars of cocktail sauce, five half-jars of tartar sauce, four pounds of sliced American cheese, goodness knows how many mustards and ketchups, and well, you can see for yourself. The poor thing just gave up.
ginnygram 