Keeping Our Cool

It's been a weird week.

I decided last Sunday that it was time to replace the refrigerator. I'd been smelling coolant(?) in the kitchen, plus it had been dripping water inside the fridge for some time (years?). Rather than wait until it croaked altogether, I decided to do the deed and retire old Betsy.

I was trying to remember when we'd purchased her. We keep a file of stuff we've bought over the years, and sure enough, there was the manual along with the receipt for our Frigidaire. The purchase date? July 4, 2003. From the long-defunct H.H. Gregg. Yep, we got 23 years out of the old girl. It was time.

The new Frigidaire was due to arrive on Tuesday. I thought this was a good date, until a meeting showed up on my work calendar. I crossed my fingers and hoped the delivery would be before or after the meeting. I breathed a shaky sigh of relief when the delivery time was set for 12:30-4:30. The meeting was scheduled to end before noon. I mean, what are the odds that the delivery would be early? 

Well, the odds have never been in my favor, and sure enough, 15 minutes into the meeting I got a call from the delivery driver saying they would be there in 15 minutes. So, I turned off the camera and microphone on my computer and listened in while I shoved the food from our refrigerator and freezer into the coolers I had waiting. Then continued to listen in while I waited for the truck to show up. 

Fortunately, I didn't miss my cue, and was able to participate in the meeting when I needed to, but I was a nervous wreck by the time things wrapped up.

The new model is verrrrry quiet. But the food is cold and the frozen stuff is frozen, so it's all good. I suspect old Betsy hadn't been working efficiently for some time, but then, neither am I these days, so I felt a certain sadness when they wheeled her out and brought her replacement in. And yes, we got another Frigidaire. If it lasts anywhere near as long as old Betsy, I'll be happy.

As per our tradition, Mr. Ginley chose the magnets that now adorn the new model. I haven't named her yet. Naming things was my thing at my last job. Jewelry collections, plush giveaways, parking lot aisles. (Who can forget "Tourmaline Trail"?) So naming our fridge shouldn't be a big deal.

Our next project is getting the gutters cleaned out. I'll be working on contacting a contractor this week.

Meanwhile, last evening, we settled in to watch a bit of television and realized the remote was missing. We spent well over an hour looking for it, Mr. Ginley insisting he'd handed it to me last, me insisting it must be him. I even went to the garbage bin to make sure I didn't accidentally toss it in there. Finally, I admitted defeat, and ordered a new one online.

"Now we'll find I," I predicted.

As I was helping Mr. to bed, my prediction came true. 

You gotta laugh, right? And we did.