A summer meltdown already.

"At least you'll get a blog entry out of this, right?" P.I.C was stretching, as I continued to sniffle back my tears, mopping away at my sticky floor.

He was right. And here is how I ended the first summer day of the year mopping the sticky strawberry juice off my floor and sending P.I.C. down to the alley with a bag full of spoiled groceries at 11:00 P.M.

Let me back up to how the day panned out. We opened our eyes to summer in Chicago yesterday morning. Sunshine streaming through the mini-blinds, birds chirping, and the quiet hum of the fan it just felt like summer. Furthermore, it  was hot. As in ninety degrees hot. Humid. Sunny. Summer. Yay, right? Well, we rang in the weather with a patio-ed brunch, bloody marys, good friends and sun dresses. Well, I wore a sun dress. P.I.C. didn't embrace that summer tradition, obviously.

After our leisurely brunch, we all went to our respective homes to get ready for the day. P.I.C. and I had barbecue plans (fully summer, right?) to watch the Chicago Blackhawks playoff game (watching hockey is decidedly not summer, but hey, playoffs are playoffs!) I proceeded to get a large glass of ice water, feeling thirsty and hot after my walk home. After a few minutes of relaxing, I had to get going, so I filled my cup back up with ice and water and took off.

More lovely times were had in the form of friends, homemade guacamole, Brooklyn Summer Ale, and a big "W" for the Hawks. We made it home in time for the Lost series finale. (Still processing that one. No spoilers here, but I feel inherently unsatisfied as their form of resolution of the series.)

Entering my now stifling apartment at nearly 11:00 p.m. with my arms full of groceries purchased that afternoon, I grappled with the decision to turn on the air conditioning. No sooner had I set the bags on my chair in the kitchen when I see P.I.C. push closed my freezer door. I looked at him, perplexed. I didn't buy any freezer goods at the store. Then I realized why he had done that.

I had left the freezer door ajar. Not just a little. A lot.

I walked over the freezer, feeling my feet get slightly sticky from whatever was on the floor and slowly opened the door, dreading the sight to unfold. a melty pitcher of water sat there next to my two ice cube trays containing...water. My half-gone bag of frozen strawberries had created a gooey mess down the front of my fridge and then my floor creating the stickiness underfoot. A brand new bag of frozen chicken breasts was a soggy mess. Frozen broccoli florets were no longer frozen, instead sloshing around in their plastic bag. Frozen salmon filets, carefully chosen because they were wild caught, not farm-raised, were only partially thawed, perfect if I had been pulling them out of my fridge for dinner that evening.

My reaction? A bit delayed. But sure enough, the waterworks came out. "All....of...that food....wasted...I...don't....have...money....to restock my freezer....I feel....sooo.....stupid" I sobbed to P.I.C., feeling completely distressed. His reaction? He started laughing, as he reached out to hug me. Of course, at this time, I was perplexed at his reaction to my distress, and sobbed to him, "Whyyy....are....you...laughing at...meee?" which only made him laugh harder, apologizing through his ridiculous laughter.

"I'm sorry, honey, I'm not laughing at you. The situation is just kind of ridiculous and funny."

I knew that. But still, I was upset. Who could blame me?

We then began to sort through the carnage of what used to be my well-stocked freezer. The chicken could be salvaged if we cooked it up all early this week. The fish wasn't completely thawed, so it could be salvaged as well. The unopened veggies? Some of them weren't entirely thawed, so they could go back in there. I now have one package of tilapia, a bag of mixed bell peppers and a bag of frozen berries in my freezer. Oh, and I refilled the ice cube trays too.

And how could I forget my bottle of vodka. It was salvaged as well. Cuz, come on, the next time something like this happens, I might need a drink.

Turns out, P.I.C. was right. I can blog about this. I'm not, however, laughing about it, the pain of losing most of my contents of my freezer is too fresh. But perhaps you can laugh.