I had fair warning, I suppose, but I didn’t read the signs. My water pik stopped working three weeks ago. Just ffffttt fizzled and came to a halt. Had to call the company and ask for a replacement. It’s still under the one-year warranty. They will put one in the mail. That was the beginning. Next, last week my fridge stopped working. Flat. Fortunately I have a little deep-freeze in the garage, so I moved the frozen stuff out there. I knew I was in trouble when the repairman informed me that he had to “take the unit into the shop.” I should have said my farewells then. I’ll never see that fridge again. It turns out it has a fatal error. Some type of birth defect. It’s been declared irreparable. It was a Maytag Whirlpool, by the way. Top rated.
But I didn’t get too bent out of shape. I have an extended warranty. I’ve only had it two years. You would think the warranty would cover replacement. My last fridge is over 15 years old and still chugging away up at the Ranch. Well, it turns out that the extended warranty only covers part of the replacement cost because they depreciate the fridge, now deemed worth less than half the purchase price. I’m blazing furious. The local appliance company and Maytag are a hair’s breadth away from losing my business for the rest of my life. To be continued on Tuesday, I’m going out kicking and screaming on this one. I don’t think I should pay a penny for a new fridge.
Meanwhile, two days after the fridge checked out and moved on to green pastures, the electronic control panel on the two-year-old stove quit. We can knock on the door but no one answers, press any button, nothing happens. The appliance store doesn’t have a replacement electronic panel in stock so they have to order it. Tuesday, since Monday is a holiday. It takes a week to come in. Meanwhile, we can turn the burners on but no exhaust fan so no frying. And the oven is not functioning whatsoever. I’m pining for my ancient Wedgewood from Milivia Street in the old Berkeley days.
Today is our annual Soul Food Dinner (4th of July), with friends from the Bay Area converging for the potluck feast. Forget the fish fry, we’re BBQing. And Amy will learn how to bake mac ‘n cheese in a convection oven. Shrug. Life’s speed bumps.