It's true. Frig, our Frigidaire side-by-side, took his last gasp while we were away at work today. You how they are. Don't want anybody to make a bother. Simply slip out while nobody is around, like our faithful dog Grizzly, the boys' first pet, who hung on all summer a few years back, only to lay down and die in a patch of dappled sunlight on the gravel road to the BARn on our first day back to school.
Quiet in death. Not so quiet in the end of life. I opened Frig this evening and noticed something was amiss. You know, like when you can't quite put your finger on it, but it's there. Something different. I got a cup of ice from Frig's colder half. What's this? The cubes didn't clunk into my yellow plastic bubba cup. They sounded soft. Yet looked like the same hard crescents of old. I pulled out Frig's frosty bladder. Hmm...looked like it contained slush. I opened Frig's warmer half. Aha! That temperature thingy was different. It caught my eye. 55 and 58. Yeah. Frig had a double fever. Who knew that was fatal?
I feel a bit guilty. I had no idea Frig was in his death throes when we heard him gurgling and grinding last night. Hick examined Frig, and reported that he simply had a problem with a fan, and that nothing untoward would happen if we let him go on like that. No fire. No rod-throwing. The worst thing that could happen would be that Frig would overheat and trip a breaker.
So much for a diagnosis from Dr. Hick. I should have known better. Am I not, after all, Dr. Val, who performs a coldecystectomy on Frig every two weeks. Well. DID. Apparently, Frig had complications. I did not even want to be near the kitchen to see the aftermath when Hick pulled Frig away from the wall for the autopsy.
Now our departed Frig is a hollow shell of himself. Hick purged him of his contents, which now reside in the BARn, inside Frig's predecessor, who was near-fatally injured by an exploding can of biscuits. A good plastic surgeon might have cured what ailed him, but Hick summarily shuffled him off to the BARn to do his bidding.
Any way you look at him...Frig remains dead as a doornail.
It's going to be a hot and hungry morning in the Thevictorian kitchen.
Still looks pretty good, a lacking a bit of color maybe, but otherwise you wouldn't know it was dead.
ReplyDeleteI'll think of you when your men-folk come busting into the kitchen for some vittles tomorrow morning...
ReplyDeleteWhat will you serve them that requires no refrigeration?
That looks just like OUR fridge. Is it a GE?
ReplyDeleteWe had trouble with our fridge this year, too, but a local handyman fixed it. Somehow.
ReplyDeleteMy grandson, Gavin, always called it the Frigatory when he was a toddler. Sounds like purgatory .........
ReplyDeleteMy folks called our refrigerator an Icebox!
DeleteLet me guess. FRIG is less than 5 years old? What happened to appliances lasting so long that you couldn't stand to look at the colour anymore?
ReplyDeleteBreakfast at Cracker Barrel? When my appliances started croaking, they did it simultaneously, right after the warranties expired.
ReplyDeletejoeh,
ReplyDeleteExcept for the raging fever when checked internally.
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Sioux,
The Pony nearly foundered on Chex Mix, a batch of which I whipped up while waiting for furniture stores to open. Then he had a sausage biscuit for good measure when we got to town.
Hick went off to work and the truth came out later of his breakfastcapades.
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Stephen,
Nope. Frigidaire. Professional. They are apparently not being made at the moment, but being re-issued with a wait time of 34 days.
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Catalyst.
Hick had Frig's innards in a pile, but came to the conclusion that there was nothing wrong with him. He was going to perform further exploratory surgery, but the manual said Frig didn't have the organ in question.
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Kathy,
How appropriate!
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Birdie,
Hick says Frig is six years old. Funny how our last one lived to the ripe old age of 14+, being taken out of service by an unfortunate biscuit can explosion.
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Linda,
Cracker Barrel? You must mistake us Thevictorians for people who live near civilization. Let's see what we had to fix this year...microwave (now with TWO handles!), oven (now in his element with a new element in him), and Frig (moving to the BARn where old appliances go to live out their gimpy lives).
Hate to say it, but no wonder. That's a nice looking refrigerator, and it's a known fact that only ugly ones live forever.
ReplyDeleteTammy,
ReplyDeleteYes, the blush of youth was upon Frig in that picture. He was invincible. So strong. So photogenic. I shall miss my stalwart kitchen sentry. He was the coolest dude around.