Frig LIVES!

Frig spontaneously healed himself!

Perhaps you have heard that Frig became constipated or contrary a couple of weeks ago, and stopped dropping his ice pellets into the bin. We have been living in the dark ages, buying bags of ice at the gas station chicken store (not recommended) and Save A Lot, and dumping them into the bin for future dispensation. Like a Twilight Zone episode, appliance store employees have lost all memory of Frig's sale and hardware. Subcontractors decree that the going price is four times the cold hard cash outlaid for the last replacement ice-maker.

Monday morning, I peeped inside Frig's innnards to see if I needed to stop for ice on the way home. AND I SAW FRIG-MADE HALF-MOONS OF ICE IN THERE!

I told The Pony when he got up. "I know. I heard it dumping when I was in bed." Isn't that a fine how-do-you-do! Surprise ice to start the work week. Then I got to wondering if Hick had finally followed through on his plan to track down the elusive Frigidaire ice-maker. On the way to school, I had The Pony text him to check. The Pony takes good dictation while I'm piloting T-Hoe through the mean streets of Backroads.

"Did you fix the icemaker? It seems to be working again."

"No."

"We'll keep an eye on it then."

"The valve could have been stuck and freed up. We can watch it."

Yes. Hick's advice is so much more sensible. Who wants to keep an eye on something when you can watch it instead?

Behold! The bounty of Frig! Yeah. He was a little plugged up, so I kind of Roto-Rootered him with a butter knife. What's a little chopping when you were expecting to find his innards Mother-Hubbard-dog-bare?