Waiting for Mr. Appliance

I was about to step into the shower at 11 after my 17-hour sleep marathon when Steve said, "Honey? I think the refrigerator's broken."

"Hold on," I replied, standing under my "hard, pounding action" setting in the shower (Steve's is "gentle, infant mist"). I let the hot water in our recently jerry-rigged shower in the bathroom that really needs to be remodeled rain down on me as I gathered my wits, reminding myself that this would eventually be funny and make a good story, especially as the dishwasher had broken four days earlier.

Got out of the shower and put on sexy sweatpants and found Steve with the side-by-side doors opened, trying to figure out what was wrong. I grew up at the beach and lived through a lot of hurricanes that knocked out power for days, and I recalled the first rule of saving food: Don't open the refrigerator. But Steve and I are very sweet to each other. So I just walked up and closed it as he stood there.

My refrigerator is only six years old. I remember when the old one that came with the house busted: Rex and Ray drove me to Lowe's at 8 p.m. and we bought the new GE. I am a great believer in Kenmore appliances from Sears, but we had no time that night. I was barely employed and my food was thawing, so we got a GE at the last minutes of store hours.

So when I inspected the damage today, I totally expected to have to call Rex and Ray to come over with the Denali and drive me to Sears, but I tried calling GE services first. I talked to a very nice customer service rep; well, she was very nice until we'd been on the phone for 10 minutes with her taking all my info. When she told me the first available appointment was Wednesday, I had to balk, as my fabulous Trader Joe's food was thawing and I tried to thank her for her time and she pretty much let me have it.

Got off the phone with her as quickly as I could and started calling other appliance repair services in town. Mr. Appliance was the first to call back, so we made an appointment.

In the meantime, I called my parents, as I always do on Sundays. Told them about the past week: The bad batch of paper on the press check, how we hadn't yet found a plumbing contractor, how I put in for my work sabbatical to start in two weeks, that the dishwasher burned itself out on Thursday. Told them that I made an appointment with my stylist to make me purty before I get my headshot and video interview for the paper but I didn't have a thing to wear and was freaked out about it.

Got off the phone with them when Mr. Appliance arrived. As he was working on our fridge, Steve and I sat whispering in our office. I told him I was freaking out about what to wear to the photoshoot. Steve and I make fun of each other constantly and I impersonate him as an English Deputy Dog. According to his impersonation of me, I sound just like Eric Cartman.

So Steve, impersonating me as Cartman, said, "My lifelong dream to be a published author has come true, but I can't do it because I have nothing to wear!"

Mr. Appliance finished up with the fridge and we paid him. Mr. Appliance was a 50-ish Indian man who did a great job and left us his card.

I looked at it and said to Steve: "Mr. Appliance was probably Dr. Patel in his native country, wasn't he?"

"Probably," Steve replied.

Here is where I realize that life's been good to me so far.