Those of you that ever made their way to our house on 8th street will probably remember the scores of magnetic poetry that covered our old refrigerator. When we moved out (over a year now), we took down the old magnets and they are somewhere, in some box, in the new house... I think. The last renters had their own fridge, so we moved the old gal to the new garage where she sat in the corner. The fridge has been a great backup; holding extra drinks, ketchup packets, nearly empty pickle jars and the like. We bought some shrimp at some point and the freezer really started to smell... Crap, could I digress ANY further from the actual story?
Tamara and I were cleaning the beast last weekend (Easter weekend), and there was a lone word we missed. It had, for just over a year, clung unassuming to the bottom of the door to the freezer. Tamara found it, handed it to me, and continued cleaning. I almost just tossed it, but instead, hoping to reunite the lil guy with its family, I put it in my wallet and continued scraping dried egg from the underside of a tempered sea of hazy glass. Seriously, I think I found 3 tiny chunks of dried egg on every square inch of that thing. I swear an Egg McMuffin had pooped in there or something.
So here I am today, putting a post-it into my wallet, when my little lost friend is staring at me... clinging to the very spot I laid him, waiting for a morsel of life-changing news to be delivered.
God, I'm happy.