More than thirty years ago we moved into this house and it came complete with appliances. The next year the old brown refrigerator started making thumping noises when the motor came on and went off but we used the thing right up to the time it died. We put it on the curb and some folks who sell junk hauled it right off for us.
The next refrigerator was white and it lasted quite a number of years before it started making noises. We knew it was going the way of the old brown one before long so we started saving our quarters and praying that the current one did not go before the jar was full.
Last week I was busy writing and I heard an old familiar noise. I knew that sound. I'd heard it before. It might last another six months but any more than that would be a miracle. It might even be magic.
I got out the big pickle jar and put the first quarter in it.
End of story?
Oh, no! One prepares for the death of a refrigerator. The junk people who take it off the curb might open the doors just to see if we left a jar of picante or perchance a stick of butter in behind one of those little flap door things. My Granny Chapman would talk to St. Peter about me ever getting past the front gates of heaven if I put a dirty refrigerator out on the curb with a FREE sign on the front.
Besides, it hadn't been cleaned out since Thanksgiving. Shhhh...I haven't let Granny on that bit of information yet. After all, she has a lot of responsibility up in heaven and I only talk to her occasionally and there's better things to visit about that the shelves in the 'fridge.
That shelf above the crisper drawers was not spick and span, pass the white glove test, clean. So this morning I thought that I'd take it out, spray a little cleaner on it and put it back. Nothing to it. Five minute job and I could go right back to my writing.
End of story?
Not yet! Someone--I'm not calling any names but if I find out which grandkid, they are in big trouble--spilled what looked like barbecue sauce in the refrigerator over Thanksgiving. They swiped it off the shelf but there it was on the very bottom of the 'fridge. Hot water didn't faze it! The roughest cleanser in the house did not touch it! The egg turner bent when I tried to scrape it out. I couldn't even cuss it off.
If they put cars together with that stuff we'd only have to buy one vehicle in our entire lives. Fender benders would be a thing of the past because nothing could dent a car made with three month old barbecue sauce.
Elbow grease came out along with a scratcher and lots of scouring powder. Finally, after an hour my refrigerator was clean enough to sit out on the curb. I'd even thrown out all the outdated salad dressing and jellies so no one was going to get an up close and personal visit with St. Peter because of food poisoning.
Granny would be so proud of me.
All day I've waited for the noise...all blasted day long. I cleaned it and it was ready for the curb. But now it has its second wind and is probably going to last another twenty years! It was probably that horrible stuff on the bottom shelf that caused it to almost go into refrigerator cardiac arrest.
When I started to make supper, the stove made a noise. I guess it thinks it deserves as much attention as the 'fridge. Too bad! I'll take it to the dump and forget about the curb. I've been eyeballing one of those with two ovens anyway and I hear Granny is in charge of choir practice for the next month!