You knew it was going to happen! C'mon. I know you were just being polite, mmm-hmm-ing and nodding, bestowing congratulations upon me with your smiles, while cutting side-eyes at each other over Farmer H's repair of FRIG II's ice maker dispenser. Yup. You knew all along that this wasn't a real repair. It was a Farmer H repair!
In fact, Farmer H himself said he didn't FIX the ice maker, but he MADE IT WORK.
And work it did, for several days! All I had to do was shove the rim of a bubba cup against the lever, and crescent cubes of ice clunked into the plastic. It was wonderful! No more frostbitten fingers! No more sore wrists slammed in the little plastic door of the ice bin! It was almost as if things were back to normal.
Cue the squealing brakes and the scratching phonograph!
Wednesday, I returned from town and set about getting my lunch ready. I shoved my yellow bubba cup against the lever. I heard the cubes jostling for position, eager to leap into my cup. Yet nothing came out. Huh. How was that possible? I could hear them moving. On the verge of dropping into my cup. They'd had plenty of time to be moved forward by the giant corkscrew part that runs along the bottom of the ice bin. WHERE WAS MY ICE?
As any curious iceless person would do, I opened the freezer door of FRIG II to look for my ice. Well! I most certainly found it! As the door opened, crescent after crescent of ice cascaded onto the floor! FIFTEEN crescents, specifically. A few more balanced precariously on the food on the shelf under the ice bin.
What hath Farmer H wrought???
I reached up under the bin, to feel that hole where the ice comes out, to fall into the pocket on the inside of the door that lets it out a flap when the lever in the door is pushed. Whoa! A bunch more crescents fell out. To the floor, of course. What in the Not-Heaven?
As I put my hand on the bin, to pull it out and take a look inside, the BIN SLID BACK AGAINST THE LEDGE WHERE THE TURNY THING TURNS THE CORKSCREW THING!
When Farmer H replaced the bin, after removing the crushing-blades to "make it work," he had not pushed the bin all the way to the back! When the level of ice was low, as it started to fill the bin, and I took it out three times a day, everything worked fine. But when more ice began to fill up the bin, it got pushed over into the gap where the bin was not fully lodged in place.
Thanks, Farmer H.
Maybe my lovely lady-mullet with grow lush with the rush of blood to my head as I picked up the 15+ wayward ice crescents scattered along the kitchen floor and under the cutting block.
3 comments:
So, are you going to tell Farmer H that his "made it work" actually made it "not work"? Or will you leave the status quo as it is and let him bask in his own glow of "not quite fixed, but it works"?
Or perhaps he knew what might happen, that pieces of ice would skitter around the floor, you'd slip on a piece of ice and...
He's coming up with different scheme every day.
River,
Of course I told him! As you might imagine, I got the CHUCKLE, and a response of, "HM, you always have something go wrong." Pointing out that it was no error on HIS part, but a problem with my thought processes, or ability to navigate through life.
***
Sioux,
What a scary thought, that Farmer H might have a devious mind capable of such a plan.
Post a Comment