Ice, Ice, Baby

I can now have a Diet Pepsi over ice at home and at school. Life is good.

Contrary to what you might think, however, this is not due to the incredible competence of the refrigerator repairman who visited my house, looked in the fridge and presented me with a bill for $59. Between the time the ice maker stopped spitting out cubes and the time the repairman arrived, the ice maker decided to heal itself. By the time he arrived, it was working merrily and had filled the ice holder to the brim.

I did not cancel the visit since, as you well know, as soon as you do that the appliance will immediately quit working and you will have to reschedule the visit. And be without ice. Not a happy place to be. The repairman deduced that we would need a $250 part and suggested, quite confidently that since we had purchased the refrigerator in 1999, it was almost 20 years old and we should just buy a new one.

Not taking the time to do the calculations in my head and, quite frankly, excited at the idea of finally getting a refrigerator with ice and water in the door, I immediately agreed with him and told him I would talk to my husband about it. When Tom got home, I pounced on him, exclaiming that since our refrigerator was 20 years old and we could get a new one for roughly $1000, it was JUST PLAIN SILLY to spend that money to get it fixed and, just think!, we can get one with ice and water in the door!!

Since Tom is, compared to me, a rocket science mathematical genius, (well, honestly, anyone is) he immediately replied that a refrigerator purchased in 1999 is not exactly 20 years old, in point of fact, it is not even 10 years old.

Well, damn. He's right. So, what's with the appliance repairman? Did he really think from 1999 - 2007 is 20 years? Did he think I wouldn't notice? I will never know, since we are not about to buy a new one and we have a friend who is going to fix the old one for us. I do feel a little silly. But not in front of my husband. He doesn't mind. He knows I am a mathematical moron. A zero. Or is that zero to infinity? Or something about Pi?

Who knows. Just get me a good book to read. That I can handle.

I'm SO ANNOYED

Yeah. I'm annoyed today. Everything is annoying me. Do you have days like that? Sure you do. A little empathy here. Thanks. And a hug. Thanks. You are such a good friend.

I need a BB gun. Or maybe a shotgun. I need to kill a bird. There is a bird. A bird from hell. Sent straight from hell to drive me crazy. He perches in the tree right outside my window and chirps. Starting at about 4:00 a.m. It sounds like he is standing on my pillow on his little, stick-like yellow legs, leaning forward and shrieking right in my ear. Literally. He sounds that close. I want to KILL him. OK, get a grip. He's a beautiful songbird, flitting through the air with his lovely wings...nope. I still want to kill him. Blow his freakishly loud little head off. I'm not really going to do it. I do love animals. I wouldn't really kill him. Besides, I don't have a gun.

Then, after staggering out of bed incredibly early because of the bird from hell, I get to school and get ready to show a Power Point presentation to the entire school with inspirational messages from the mayor, etc. and realize. I created it on a computer with a newer version of Power Point and the other computer can't open it from the network because it was created with a newer version of Power Point and the entire school will be ready to watch in, like, 10 minutes and I'm running across the hall from one room to the other trying to get the old Power Point to open the new Power Point presentation because it has .wav files and pictures and I can't possibly duplicate it in, like, 8 minutes when the entire school will be watching and then, once I am sweating down the sides of my new summer top, I realize I can save it as a Power Point presentation instead of a Power Point show and the old program will recognize it so I do that and run across the hall and open it and she makes the announcement to watch and I show it. And then I have a stroke. OK. Not really.

And then it's afternoon and I have a fifth grade class that has been playing outside on this warm spring day, running and playing and dodging and jumping and laughing...and sweating. There are many unpleasant odors. Shrimp shells left in a trashcan in the hot sun. Fresh cow manure. Dead fish left by the withdrawing tide. But there is no other smell that will make you literally jerk your head back in reflex to get your nostrils as far as possible from the offending smell. As the smell of 25 hot, sweaty, smelly, stinky fifth graders who come straight to the library from recess.

What a glorious day. What a lovely, wonderful, fabulous day. Why do I say that? After all the annoyances of my day?

Because another teacher just told me the ice machine is fixed. And I can have a cold Diet Pepsi over ice. Over ICE. Life is good. I can handle anything. The bird. The computer program. Stinky kids.

I have ice. And life is good.

This Is War!

There is no problem that cannot be solved by the use of high explosives.

- Bumper Sticker

Apparently, my kitchen appliances have decided to stage a coup. Needless to say, since they have rather limited mobility, this will involve guerrilla warfare rather than an all-out attack on all fronts. I can only assume that, after Tom and I go to bed, they have whispered conferences something like this.

Dishwasher: Pssst. Hey, you guys? Can you believe she didn't load me after dinner. Look at those dishes sitting there. What a complete pig!

Oven: You! What about me? Look at these crumbs. She didn't even wipe me off. Lazy slut. Too busy in there watching tv to take care of us.

Refrigerator: What are you talking about? Have you SEEN the inside of my vegetable bin? Do you KNOW how long it's been since she has cleaned it out? And don't even get me started on the leftovers in here. I think some of them have been in here since the 80's.

Dishwasher: We have to do something. We have to fight back, I tell you! This means war!

Oven: What do you suggest?

Refrigerator: Well, I can clog up the ice maker pretty well. You know how she loves ice.

Dishwasher: Hah! I can beat that. The next time she opens the door, I'll just snap off the catch for the soap dispenser so she can't wash dishes.

Oven: How about if I fix the clock timer so it will only work if she bangs on the side of me? How would that be?

Refrigerator: That sounds great! OK, men. We have only one life to give for Whirlpool....Shhhhh, I think she's up. Here she comes.

What's wrong with this freaking ice maker? And what happened to the clock timer? Sigh. Well, at least I can clean up a little and load the dishwasher before I leave for work. Augh!!!

Just A Glass of Ice, Please

I really don't think it's too much to ask for. I like ice. Lots of ice. A glass full of ice. Often, when I order iced tea in a restaurant, I will ask for a glass of ice. I like to add it to my iced tea when the ice melts slightly. It's a Southern thing, I think. It has to do with the heat and humidity. We are a people who like lazy summers in a porch swing and a tall glass of fresh lemonade packed with ice.

So it is somewhat disconcerting that I can't get ice lately. I have an ice bucket at school which I normally fill with ice every morning. If I get a hankering (did you forget I was Southern) for some iced water, iced tea or a Diet Pepsi with some ice, there you go. I had all I needed. The other day I went to fill my ice bucket and the cafeteria lady informed me the ice machine was broken. I went back the next morning and she informed me it was still broken. By the third day, I was a desperate woman. I was drinking cold Diet Pepsi straight from the can. From the can, I tell you. Is there anything worse?

Unfortunately, there is. The ice machine won't be fixed by the end of the school year. They may have to buy a new one. I thought that was absolutely the worst news.

Then I got home the other night. The icemaker on our refrigerator is broken. It's not filling with water. Must be some kind of clog or something. Who knows. The refrigerator repairman can't come until Tuesday. A whole weekend without ice. I just had some popcorn and a Diet Pepsi, swigged straight from the can. This is not the life for a Southern woman. Something has to give. We may just have to eat dinner out every night. So I can have some freakin' ice.

Hey...things are looking up.