This here's a little story about how we got a new refrigerator last week. See that silver splendor of coldness above? Right behind that little cutie pie eating a snack? That would be her.
Our other fridge passed from this life after a series of ailments. It was born with a weak constitution and never lived up to its expectations. Plus it was too small to meet the nutritional demands of our household, and the water dispenser was a pain in the rumpus. I hate to say it, but we weren't too sad to see her go. The truth is, we were thrilled when the repair guy told us the fix she needed wasn't worth the cost.
So, in the midst of the crazy busy life we seem to be having, we needed a new appliance. And fast.
I called my husband to discuss our options, planning a series of internet searches and shopping expeditions.
"Get one today," my husband ordered,"I need ice."
Alrighty then. So, I spent about 15 minutes online then called a reputable appliance shop. They had 2 models in their scratch and dent section that would meet our specifications.
"I'll be there in 30 minutes," I told the salesman, and we loaded up the van.
On the drive over, child number 3 started complaining of nausea. He had had a cold, so I pretty much dismissed him as being a little carsick. I told him he'd feel better if he stood up and walked around. Famous last words.
We all marched into the store and the 20-something salesman with no wedding ring and presumably no children showed us to the refrigerator section.
As soon as the shiny new models came into my view and I prepared to make a highly-informed decision, I felt a tug at my elbow and looked down into my son's pleading eyes. He had "the look."
"Oh my gosh, are you going to puke?!" I whispered, trying not to startle the unsuspecting staff.
Without waiting for a response, I grabbed him, left 3 other children standing in the middle of the store, yelling orders at the older ones to keep the 3yo out of trouble. Right.
Any good, non-desperate parent would take all the children home and resume the search another day, right? Not this one. We had driven all the way across town. We had unloaded the van, including wheelchair and toddler. I was not leaving empty-handed.
We ran to the side of the building. False alarm.
"Just sit in the van for a minute! You can sit in the front seat! It will be fine!" Poor child.
I ran back in, scooped up the baby and between apologies for dumping my kids into his care, asked the poor young sales guy to show me my choices. There were basically 2.
After 10 seconds of careful comparison shopping, my daughter, who had run out to check on the infirm, ran in announcing that her brother had, in fact, thrown up. (The reality was that he had not. But the drama makes for a better story.)
I looked straight ahead, pointed my finger at the model right in front me and announced that it was the one.
"I'll call in a minute from my cell to pay you!" I shouted over my shoulder as we ran out the door.
Two days later, our new fridge arrived, all shiny and clean, and we are happy as little clams at how she's working out. (Are clams really happy?).
As for the illness, it has passed.
