Irony

Last week, when I started researching refrigerators, noise was a factor. A couple of reviews on the model I’d chosen mentioned noise, but I’d already eliminated two other major brands through personal experience of their unreliability, so I ordered it anyway. I knew there’d be an adjustment of some kind, since we’d turned off the icemaker in our current fridge due to leakage, and we hadn’t lived with the clunkety clunk of ice descending into its bin.

Yesterday afternoon I received a call from my appliance store. It seems the fridge I’d ordered and that was scheduled to be delivered next week, and which two different people at the store had assured me was in stock, is on back order. And with no timeline on when it might arrive. Annoying, but not the end of the world. Yes, I told the salesman, my fridge was still working so we’d just sit back and wait.

Remember when your toddler was suspiciously quiet? It was always a signal that something bad was probably happening. Not just true of small children.

An hour later, I grabbed a grape from the bowl in our silent refrigerator. Hmmm. Not very cold. And neither was much of anything else in there.

 I’d been over the moon recently because I’d relocated my pantry from basement shelves to a reconfigured closet next to the kitchen, eliminating the run up and down the stairs to grab a can of soup.

Not only had my fridge died an hour after assuring the salesman I didn’t need one right away, I also now will be running downstairs to the small basement fridge every time I want to spread butter on a piece of toast.