I am the product of my upbringing.
More specifically: when my family moved to our "new" home in December '93, we got a fridge with an icemaker and one of those magic in-door widgets that gave you all the tools you needed for a fresh glass of ice water (that would be ice and water, for those of you not so privileged). I lived with the Icemaker until I left for college, at which point the family Icemaker was replaced with a communal Icemaker in the dining hall. Post-college, I moved back home, which meant the family Icemaker and I could renew our acquaintance. My present apartment, however, has no such amenity. Why am I telling you all this?
Because I cannot properly use an ice tray to save my life.
Every freaking time: water all over the floor as I'm trying to open the freezer, or worse, water IN the freezer from jostling the tray too much when I'm trying to set it down. Don't even get me started on how challenging it is to fill *two* ice trays. Maybe I'm just an inherently nervous person and my hand starts shaking en route to the freezer, thereby ensuring that the inevitable spill occurs. Maybe I'm just out of practice. It just got me thinking, though, as I was swapping my wet socks for dry ones and mopping up my spill for the umpteenth time, that I'm more dependent on technology than I even realize, sometimes.
Anyhow. Back to your regularly-scheduled rant about the journal-writing competition (24 more hours)...