It’s all about the stories, really. The best reason to read a book, or watch a movie, or sit with friends and talk. The stories. Sometimes, the story has to end: Stuart McLean died this morning, and the Vinyl Cafe is now shuttered, permanently.
Thus, the rest of us carry an increased responsibility. We have to keep telling our own stories. The simple ones, along with the complex.
Last night, when the dog came to roust me (he never wants to admit it, but I suspect it’s his own favourite joke on me), I sent him into the chill of the front yard. I then went for a drink of cold milk; it wasn’t “as cold as usual”. For some reason, the refrigerator had shut down the cooling function. Not off, just… resting, or something. I checked the control panel, but other than a few beeps (almost like giggles), nothing useful. Of course, this isn’t a good thing.
Online, I found a copy of the owner’s manual. Trying to find the paper version, among all the other paper versions of things on file here, would have wasted the rest of the night, and assured me an attentive audience. Better to trust the technical document section on the appliance website, and then to press the two particular buttons with the required three-second depress. Things seem to be back to normal, but I’ll be watching.
This was a redo of yesterday, and we ended going out for a lovely supper in a local restaurant. Haddock stuffed with crab, in my case. Much better than opening a can of something from the pantry.