When It Rains, It Warms (Not Always in a Good Way)

It had been raining on and off for days and then came the week it refused to stop. The kind of rain that doesn’t just pass, but settles in like an uninvited guest with a suitcase full of mood swings. Thunder rolling, skies brooding, and puddles growing as if they, too, have something to prove.

And right in the middle of all that, our refrigerator broke down.

Yes. While the outside world soaked and chilled, the inside of our fridge quietly gave up. I opened it one morning and was met with a strange, unsettling stillness — no cold breeze, no rush of chilled air like usual. The ice had already melted into small pools of water, and everything inside felt worryingly warm. I was already worried the protein drink might not be safe to consume. Leftovers were no longer edible. It was clear that everything I had just stocked was now racing toward spoilage.

The worst part? I had just gone grocery shopping the day before. A full week’s worth of food. Meats, produce, prepped meals — all meant to carry us through the stormy week so I wouldn’t have to go out unnecessarily.

And then boom — the next morning, the fridge gave up on life.

That meant I had to hustle and figure out how to consume everything fast, before it all spoiled. It felt like a mini food marathon, minus the fun. I was forced to rearrange meals, cook in batches, and snack on things I wasn’t even hungry for just to avoid waste. Argh. All I could think was — “There goes my entire food budget for the week… just like that.” Money down the drain. Literally melting, spoiling, rotting — faster than I could keep up with.

Out of desperation, I even went to convenience stores looking for ice, thinking it might help slow down the spoilage or somehow “revive” the fridge’s function. I turned the refrigerator off for a few hours, then turned it back on, hoping it just needed a reset. Miraculously, it came back to life. But only for one night.

By the next morning, it was back to being warm again. I tried the same trick — turning it off and back on — but that was the last spark. It never cooled again after that.

To add to our own atmosphere, there’s a small corner in our rented apartment that leaks during heavy rain. It’s not new, we’ve been catching it with a container for years. Just a small drip, manageable. This apartment has been home for so long, and honestly, we’ve loved it here. It’s flood-free, quiet, and perfectly suited to our work-from-home routine.

But lately, little mishaps have started piling up. A few too many things now require more than just patience — the kind of repairs that make you pause and rethink how long you can keep adjusting. We’re at that point of asking if it’s time to move on if maybe we’ve outgrown this place or it’s quietly telling us it's time.

And then the fridge gave in.

Of all things — now?

I won’t go into all the other apartment issues just yet (still saving those for a quieter day), but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t frustrated. We're in the middle of deciding whether to move, already facing the future hassle of relocating all our things and then this major appliance taps out on us? We even joked that maybe the fridge “heard” us making plans and decided to retaliate. “Oh, you’re leaving? Here’s one more thing to carry or maybe don’t.”

Now we're in a small but annoying dilemma: Should we buy a new fridge now? Or wait until we’ve found our next place? It’s the kind of logistical headache that seems minor until you’re living through it — daily meals, food storage, and the weird silence of an empty fridge all waiting on your decision.

Before I go further, I want to pause and acknowledge that I know my experience is small in the wider picture. I’m aware that while I was dealing with spoiled groceries, many people were facing floods, losing homes, or even losing lives because of the very same storms. This post isn’t meant to be insensitive or to center inconvenience over tragedy — it’s simply a way to make sense of my own little corner of the mess. If anything, it’s a reminder that we can hold space for both: our own struggles and empathy for those facing something much harder.

And somewhere in that mess, a part of me softened. I caught myself saying, “Well, at least it’s just the fridge.”

No flood inside. No injury. No real loss beyond some spoiled food and a week’s worth of sighs.

And yes — despite everything — I’m still thankful that nothing worse happened.

Maybe it’s the way I’ve learned to hold onto small wins. If I stretch my perspective far enough, I can even find a silver lining: no fridge means I go out every other day to buy food, which means walking — which, honestly, I’ve been meaning to do more of. Maybe this is my accidental exercise plan. A forced kind of movement. A different kind of routine.

It’s funny how gratitude sometimes comes not from having more, but from realizing it could’ve been worse. When everything around me was wet and wild, and even my fridge betrayed me, I still had enough peace to say, “Well, it’s not the end of the world.”

Because truthfully, it wasn’t. No real damage. No emergencies. The leaky corner stayed contained, the lights stayed on, and we stayed safe.

And maybe that’s what resilience looks like on the quieter days — not bold declarations or dramatic bounce-backs, but a gentle sigh that says, “This sucks, but I’m still here.”

So yes, it rained. My fridge warmed. My food spoiled. And things got messy.

But even then, I found a little space to be thankful — for all that didn’t go wrong. - MESSY E.

💌 Subscribe to Miss and Mess
A journal of reflections, resilience, and the quiet power of living through life’s misses and messes.
Scroll below and hit “Yes to the Mess” — and never miss a post.