An unfamiliar number flashed on my screen this afternoon, and so I let the call go to voicemail.
Surprise!
The new fridge that was supposed to be delivered on September 2 has been delayed.
Fortunately, the old one is chugging along now that it's repaired, and the service company is on speed dial.
I went to school today to help Heidi set up her tech, unpack, and organize her stuff. We chatted as we worked, and I had to correct myself several times after referring to "our school," "my classroom," "my tables," or "my job."
It's getting easier, though.
The refrigerator repairman came just when he said he would and texted a 20-minute warning as promised, too. He examined the old thing kindly, and his diagnosis was hopeful. For under 300 dollars, he could have everything fixed. It would be an hour today and a follow-up next Monday, but the fridge would be working when he left, and the ice maker would be working on Monday.
I hesitated for a moment. I needed it to work until the new one was delivered, and I didn't want to overpay. When I explained the situation to him, he gave me several options with estimates to go along with them. "It's a good machine," he commented. "They really don't make them like this anymore."
I considered my choices. What if we could keep this refrigerator from the junk heap for another few years or more? With a reliable repair company, it seemed very possible.
"Let's fix it all!" I said and crossed my fingers.
We took my aunt and uncle to a matinee performance of Beautiful: The Carole King Story at a theater near their retirement community. The four of us agreed the show was terrific-- good performances and great music, although looking around at my fellow theatre-goers I noted that Heidi and I were among the youngest there.
Since we had purchased the tickets (3 seniors and 1 adult), they invited us to a meal afterward, so we found ourselves in a line of older folks waiting for a table at a nearby tavern at 4:30 PM, a good 3 hours before we usually eat. The college-age wait staff was friendly, patient, and deferential, and service was very quick; I had my salad within 10 minutes.
Sometimes I chafe at such an interruption in my routine, and I confess to a moment of despair when I wondered if matinees and 4:30 dinners were what I had to look forward to as I approach my golden years. But tucked away in a cozy windowless booth in a corner of the restaurant, I realized that it could be any time of day or night, and I might never know unless I chose to look at a watch.
Routines, like time, are just constructs, and it's okay to break them once in a while or even to let them evolve.
"You have a little icebreaker activity you have to do for Monday," I told Heidi as I read her school email. (I know, I know, but I had a good reason to be on there-- I wanted to see how much money Treat will be making as a first-year 8th-grade English teacher since he was just hired for that job, and I can't access the staff resources as a retiree.)
She groaned as I turned my screen around to show her the slide she was supposed to fill in. "I'll do it for you!" I offered. "Find a picture you like, and I can do the rest."
Five minutes later, we laughed at how quick and easy it was. "I can't wait to tell the people at school," Heidi said. "They are going to be so jealous."
"It was fun!" I told her. "I love creating materials!" The truth is, I loved all the parts of teaching, but there were just too many of them. "Maybe I can start a teacher task rabbit service where I can do the things that teachers are too busy to do."
She nodded, "That would be great if only teachers could afford to hire you."
Maybe I was a little hasty judging the broken screeners. And, admittedly, I'm certainly biased, having never shattered mine. (🪵 knock knock knock!) But you know what I have had break? Appliances!
Regular readers of this blog might recall many sagas involving inoperative stoves, air conditioners, and refrigerators. I can't believe it's possible, but I think we went over six months without a stove in 2008 before we finally replaced ours. Then again, we were stoveless for months in 2019 and again recently when the electronic panel went out.
In every case, part of the situation was service, part was supply chain, but mostly it was me trying to repair instead of replace, and making do in all sorts of crazy ways. (Yes, like the cracked screen folks.)
Just this summer, I prided myself on being able to make the HVAC unit work despite a burnt-out capacitor. I guess it's lucky that it was outside and down a flight of steps; otherwise, who knows how long I might have used my skewer to crank it up when it got too warm?
And our refrigerator drama has been going on for years. First, it leaked, and when it was too old for any repair person to consider, I used a combination of Swedish dish towels and plastic containers to capture the water while we waited for a replacement that literally never came. By then, the capture system was in place, and we put a new fridge on hold. Then, the water outage in June burst the line to the ice maker, and water leaked everywhere until we turned that off. We had a fridge delivered that wouldn't fit through the door, and then the third one we ordered was delayed, so we've been buying ice, 8 pounds at a time, all summer.
The new fridge is scheduled to come on, wait for it, Friday the 13th (of September), but today it seems like the old one might be losing its cool. I have some thermometers on order to confirm, but if it's true? That 20-year-old appliance may have finally met its end.
And what are we going to do?
