Eight years ago, I bought a used fridge from Craigslist when I moved into my apartment. I nearly had to sandblast it to remove years of grease and curry powder from every square inch of it, but I got a good deal — and a good workout in the process.
A few years later, I painted it with stainless steel paint to hide its glaring whiteness. In the process of pulling the handles off to paint the appliance, one of the handles sprang back and hit me in the face.
I had a massive contusion on my forehead for weeks. (I had to buy a ridiculous hat from H&M to hide it.)
That fridge served me well for years (minus the forehead assault), but it has been on its way out for the last year or so. I refuse to buy a new fridge for a place I’m renting on principle so I started scouring Craigslist for a replacement.
After a month, I found a candidate… in Compton.
Yes, Dr. Dre’s City of Compton.
Apparently, the guy had been trying to sell it for a long time, but everyone bailed on him when he told him where he lived.
People are idiots.
I mean, maybe I’M an idiot for driving 21 miles to go into a stranger’s garage with him, but considering the deal I got on a stainless steel fridge I’d say I won.
The only catch?
I didn’t have anyone to help me haul it home.
I didn’t think that was going to be a big deal because I moved my last fridge by myself. I figured I’d just rent a truck with a ramp and a dolly again and I’d be fine.
Yeah, not so much…
I didn’t realize how heavy the fridge was because the guy who sold it to me put it in the truck for me. Maybe the grimacing and the sweat on his brow should have tipped me off, but he was kind of small, so I didn’t really think too much about it until it was my turn to haul the thing solo.
I struggled to tip it on its end to roll it, but I finally managed. I held it at the edge of the ramp preparing to roll it down, and I grimaced in pain as the weight of the enormous appliance rested on my forearms.
OMIGOD, it hurt.
Once I was sure I had the wheels aligned properly on the ramp, I started the slow descent to the street. By this point, my arms were aching, and I was grateful my legs had the strength to keep the fridge (and me) from flying uncontrollably into the street.
I survived that ordeal and made it across the sidewalk, but I was absolutely out of breath. It turns out stainless steel weighs A LOT more than whatever my last fridge was made out of (clouds and cotton candy?!?).
Totally spent and in pain, I looked at the two small steps standing between me and my building. They weren’t that big. They should not have been daunting, but my forearms were already aching. I couldn’t face steps alone.
So I started my SOS texts.
I generally try to avoid damsel in distressing it, but this situation was out of my hands.
My friend Lauren offered to come over because she is amazing. While I was waiting for her to arrive, my neighbor Mel came upon me sitting on the steps, looking a bit bruised and pathetic.
It turns out his grandfather had owned a moving company back east and he offered to help as well.
Long story short (too late), Lauren and Mel bailed me out of a situation wisdom probably could have prevented in the first place, but now I have a fabulous fridge.
(I bought them gift cards to the bougie pet store up the street because I know when I’m indebted to incredible people, and they both have rescue dogs who deserve pampering.)
So, anyway, here’s the appliance that almost killed me and my arms:
Now I’m adoring it while icing my arms because moving it all but kind of killed me.
If you can handle gore, this is why I need the ice:
It’s actually a little worse today than it was when I took these photos last night, but I’ll spare you those pics.
Instead, I’ll conclude with this: both fridges did damage to my forehead and my forearms, but I’m grateful for cold food… and the angels who helped me haul the pretty new one into my place.
My crew rules.