The reason, dear readers, why you have NOT heard the end to the fridge nonesense is because the saga is ON GOING...and I kept hoping that it would end in a nice and tidy "And then they all lived happily ever after in their non-smelling apartment, with their perfect fridge." Sadly. This is NOT a fairy tale ending...
In fact, its not an ending at all...
As I type I am sitting out on my balcony. Why, you ask? Well, otherwise I might die.
The fumes inside my apartment have reached epic proportions and they have affected the following: my head ( headache), my brain ( confusion), my tummy ( you don't want to know) and my life ( as you will soon see...)
So, lets rewind and let me take you back to yesterday morning at 9am. The night before I had been up late ( who knows why) and I was enjoying the first sleep in that I can actually remember when the doorbell rang. So I jumped out of bed, knowing full well that it was the dear little I-never-talk-but-I-like-to-ride-around-in-a-golf-cart apartment handyman who I had left a message with the night before. So I put on my "I've been awake for hours look" and opened the door.... and he said,
"Oh! Did I wake you?"
and I said, "Oh no!"
( a few minutes later while he was at work, I checked myself in the bathroom mirror, something I had not done before, and found that I had a GIANT GRAND CANYON of a crease on the side of my face that declared me a liar.)
Anyway, so I let Rides In a Golf Cart Quiet Man into my apartment to look at my smelly fridge to see if he could 1. Locate the smell. 2. Get to the smell.
Now....I'm not going to bore you with the details, readers, but lets just say they included listening to Quiet Golf Cart Man gag ( embarrassing! This is my fridge!), several phonecalls that included one that I will intitle "If it doesn't stop smelling you'll be responsible for a $500 fridge" and a near nervous breakdown....but the end results where that there is this teeny tiny space at the base of my fridge where a piece of metal is attached to a piece of plastic, and this is where a certain piece of chicken that was defrosting the fridge decided to leak...a leak that had been cleaned up quickly, and yet...how WERE we suppose to know that some of the juices had run down into this little inconsequential crack and cultivated such an amazingly horrible smell that Trolls, Goblins and maybe three Zombies would run and horror at the very thought?!?!
And you might ask me if the piece of metal that's attached to the plastic comes off?!? Well, NOT FOR LACK OF TRYING THAT'S FOR FREAKIN SURE.
Anyway, after being threatened with the $500, Lindsay and I took drastic measures and moved the contents of our fridge to one of the Navigator guys houses, and proceeded to pour an entire bottle of Arm and Hammer Carpet Cleaner into the crack ( we figured we'd drain that baby out) and when that didn't entirely do the trick, we borrowed some bleach from the guys ( why do guys always have large quantities of bleach handy?!) and poured THAT down the crack as well....
Thus our apartment should be seriously considered a danger zone.
We think the smell is mostly gone, but that could be because we're loosing brain cells by the second.