First the transmission on my 1995 Dodge Ram truck went out. Then my 50-inch LCD rear-projection TV went on the blink. Now the icemaker in our refrigerator went out and I’m ready to hang it up. It’s as though modern technology is out to get me. One by one, my conveniences are being taken away.
When my truck died, it was replaced with the last vehicle on earth that I would ever drive: my late father-in-law’s minivan. When my big-screen TV met its demise, I had to downsize and settle for the 15-inch kitchen television. Now that my icemaker went out, I’m miserable.
The demand for ice in our house is unbelievable. Seriously, try going for 24 hours without ice in my house. My mother and my mother-in-law, who both live with us, insist that every beverage they consume be chilled with those precious little cubes of frozen water. That means the new, unwritten law for me as son and son-in-law is that I have to make sure the ice is stocked every day. It is my sole job to buy a bag of ice daily and make sure it is ready for use. When I first started doing it, the ice in the bag would melt a little on the way home so when I stuck it in the freezer, it would become one solid block of ice.
The ladies just wouldn’t have it. I’d have to take an ice pick or facsimile and break up the block into usable chunks. It was bad enough when once a week my mother would remind me that I have to take out the garbage. Now the daily reminder to buy a bag of ice comes in stereo.
I kind of calculated it, and for what I spend on ice, the gas I use to get it and my time, I could buy a SUB-ZERO commercial freezer with an industrial icemaker. Oh well, I have more important things to worry about. Like when my TV remote control is going to go on the blink.
Christina Tyler Wenks sent in the site for the Mauli Ola Foundation, which raises money and awareness to bring the best surfers in the world to teach children with cystic fibrosis and genetic lung-impairing conditions how to surf: mauliola.org Surf your websites over to me at: firstname.lastname@example.org