My flight from Minneapolis didn’t land in Seattle until after midnight, due to snow and runway closures in that suburb of Lake Woebegone, and I didn’t walk into the house until about 1:15.
Since there was no food served on the plane, and I didn’t have time between planes to scarf pizza or something, I hit the fridge almost immediately after uploading the following three plane-crafted blog entries. As soon as I opened the door, I was greeted with intermittent screeching not unlike that of exotically-plumed Amazonian birds. The fridge is over 25 years old, and I think the problem is bearings failing on the compressor motor.
Odds are looking up for a not-fun weekend.