Shea always worries about sour milk. He sniffs it before he drinks a glass and under no circumstances will he drink milk past the date. When we visit either sets of parents, he goes straight to the fridge to check the time stamp on the gallon - for no reason because they are totally NOT notorious for having week-old milk.
This month we've switched to Shatto Milk because we like local food, it tastes like milk candy and those glass bottles are completely adorable. So after dinner, Shea takes a gulp of said milk and spits it all out.
Shea: I think the milk is bad.
Me: The milk is not bad. We just got it four days ago.
Shea: Try yours!
Me: Oh wow. That milk is baaad.
So instead we made root beer floats (an obvious alternative to skim milk). As Shea is scooping the ice cream, he comments on how drippy it is.
And then it hit us.
Frantically, I stuck my head in the fridge and exclaimed "the fridge isn't running! help!" We tried switching the plug to a power strip. We figured out it wasn't a breaker. I called my mom. And then called the landlord who said he'd be over tomorrow, which means we still have a fridge and freezer full of food dangerously close to rotting, which I am now adding up in my head how much money is melting away, literally.
Luckily I have a master key to my work and with summer break starting, there is an empty, full-size fridge just waiting to be filled. So we threw everything in Target bags and raced the 30 blocks to my work.
The only casualties were chopped peppers, milk and my beloved chocolate soy milk. I weep.
It's like the epically bad day wasn't done with us. The oven and dishwasher are still working. It's only a matter of time now.