I had planned to publish this yesterday, but I got distracted by playing a computer game and lost track of time, so here is the latest episode of Harold being Harold. I hope you chuckle a bit at my expense, shake your head at my stoopidity, and don’t do what I did.

I didn’t run yesterday, even though I had planned to go into Augusta. I had one of those Harold being Harold moments that interrupted all of my wonderful plans. We had eaten breakfast, and I was finishing up drying the dishes.

It was a pretty typical morning until I saw my wife’s coffee cup on the counter by where we usually put them after drying them off. Without thinking, I turned it upside down to put it away. One problem it was still half-full and spilled all over the counter, down the side, and behind the refrigerator.

Oh shit!

I may have said several more words that I don’t need to repeat here, that particular phrase was the nicest thing I said for the next thirty or so seconds.

What a mess!

TheWife was not impressed, and we set about cleaning up my mess, which included moving the refrigerator out. We haven’t cleaned behind it since we remodeled it in 2019. Unfortunately, the spilled coffee had mixed with the abundance of dust, animal hair, sand, grit, old cat toys, assorted dry animal food pieces, and some other unidentifiable stuff.

Pretty standard fair to find behind a refrigerator after a couple of years.

No big deal, right?

Well, once we got that mess cleaned up and the cabinets and walls all wiped down, I looked at the back of the refrigerator. The air vents were utterly clogged with hair/dust, and after I wiped that off, I could see behind the panel and needed to be cleaned out.

So, I got out the tool kit and took the panel off. Of course, I didn’t take the time to go out and get the shop vac. That would have been too smart. Instead (yes, I unplugged the refrigerator), I put my hand in and started pulling out large chunks of matted hair/dust. When I couldn’t get any more out with my hand, I began to blow hard into the underneath section that was completely coated in dust/hair.

Yes, you can tell what happened next.

A massive dust cloud formed all around my head, and I began sputtering, spitting, and coughing up a storm for some reason or other. I ain’t that smart and pulled out a few more chunks of stuff that I had loosened up and then did the same thing again.

Yep, same freaking results, only this time my glasses were so dusty I couldn’t see out of them, and I was breathing all that crap in at the same time.

After I cleaned off my glasses and stopped my coughing fit, I finally got the refrigerator back together. Of course, I gave blood with a small cut on the back of my hand, and it began dripping blood on the floor.

TheWife had been laughing so hard, well you know how wives are when they see their husband doing something stoopid. She fit the stereotype perfectly, and once she figured out that yes, I was breathing okay, still had a hand attached to the wrist, and only needed to wash my face a lot, she laughed some more.

Not a big deal.

Things like this are why I have a blog named Harold being Harold.

I was still planning to go into Augusta for a run after all the excitement, but when I took Bennie for his walk, we did the snowmobile trail down to the hill on Philbrick and had to come back up it. It isn’t quite 2.0 miles, but it is a challenging walk. When we got back, I wasn’t feeling the greatest.

I can’t imagine why?

Breathing that crap in hadn’t done me any favors, and I decided to take the rest of the day off. Yeah, I felt that bad, and while I walked later, I still was feeling off. So it was the right choice.

I woke up this morning feeling fine, so no permanent damage done to the lungs or respiratory tract, just another blow to my not so fragile ego.

However, the refrigerator is running a helluva lot better than it has in a long time-now that it has been cleaned out.

Now TheWife is talking about needing to do the same thing for the freezer. This time I will take the time to have the shop vac in the house and ready to go. I don’t need to be blowing into a dust filled chamber, rechecking my tolerances of pain/stoopidity anytime soon.

Yep, another case of Harold being Harold.