Some of ya'll are familiar with parts of my story, so some of you might know that a musician friend of mine received chemical burns on his legs while wading through the floodwaters. He is recuperating nicely in Missouri and his sister has kindly taken on the task of cleaning his apartment for him while he does.
This is an extraordinary act of love, even for a sister. The apartment is covered in mold, and she informed me that when she first walked by the refrigerator, she was puzzled to hear buzzing.
"Huh?" Thunk she, "there's no electricity, so how in the..."
Then it dawned on her.
That buzzing noise was not Stan's refrigerator--it was flies!
Apparently the maggots in the rotting meats had matured.
So nope, she did not open the door, but wisely duct-taped the biohazard shut and had it moved to the curb to join the dozens of others that lined the previously lovely tree-lined street in New Orleans East.
As groups of refrigerators are popping up like patches of mushrooms all over the area, I was just pondering how circumstances can turn a formerly friendly household appliance into the starring villain of a horror movie, when I came across this column in today's Times Picayune.
So, for your further edification (and hopefully amusement) I leave you this link to another favorite columnist (Chris Rose) who serendipitously touched on this very subject in today's Time's Picayune.
He thinks that bickering over garbage may be a sign of normalcy for New Orleans.
A spark of hope of recovery, if you will.
He may have a point.