There's that crisp cool environment you expect when you open the refrigerator door, so it's very weird when you encounter actual hotness. We'd come home very late at night after a week-long trip to Colorado, and the refrigerator motor must have conked out days before that, because it wasn't just not cold. It was actively hot.
The next day was Friday, and we couldn't get a repairman to come until Monday — there's only one certified SubZero repair place around here — and he determined that we needed a new motor, and it would have to be ordered. The refrigerator is 25 years old. Maybe you'd think we should just get a new refrigerator, but that's not how we analyzed it, even though replacing the motor costs $1500. The same refrigerator new would cost $10,000, and the old one not only looks like new, it has a second motor — the one that runs the freezer — and that motor is just fine.
And with the freezer motor working, we not only had frozen food to get us through the waiting period, we had ice to put in a cooler, which was our tiny substitute for a refrigerator, teaching us which few things we really cared about keeping cool. For me, it was a quart of milk and a wedge of smoked Gouda cheese. It really has been kind of okay. I eat a lot of things that don't belong in the refrigerator: bread, rice, peanut butter. We were lucky to have plenty of kale and Swiss chard out in the garden, so we didn't need to preserve store-bought vegetables. Overall, it was an interesting learning experience.
But I was delighted to hear the doorbell ring this morning. The repairman is installing the motor now. The inside of the refrigerator is at peak cleanliness, and I look forward to restocking it with only good things we like now, and no items lingering from the past, wafting an absurd sense of entitlement to space because of some now forgotten amount of money paid long ago.
Feel free to use this as a metaphor to discuss economics, politics, personal relationships, religion, whatever.