Ode To My Ice-Maker

My first Father's Day was very nice. It was laid-back, and I even got to take a nap. Kim got me a DVD-recorder and a cool shirt. I got an uber-neat handprint picture from Zachary as well - which I must get framed ASAP for the office. Spent most of the day sporting matching Hawaiian shirts, which most people we saw said was cute - but I fear most of them were muttering nasty things under their breath at us. I don't care, I think it was cute, and I am bigger than most of them anyways.

I have heard it said many times that one must take the time to appreciate the good things in life. I have also heard more times than I might have cared to that it is the little things that make life worth living. Both of these sentiments/philosophical points are true, and they both apply to the increase in my daily happiness that the installation of my ice maker is bringing into my life.

Almost three years ago, my wife and I were looking at houses - as we were about to be married and were looking to put down our familial roots. We found a house, and during our walk-through with the home inspector, Kim nosily checked out the soon-to-be-ex-owner's stuff. My wife can be very nosy, and I have come to rely on her nosiness in certain situations. After purchasing our home but before we could move in, we were in the furnishing stage - and looking at refrigerators. My wife was certain that she saw an ice maker in their freezer, so when I bought our new fridge, I paid an extra who-knows-how-much for the optional ice maker. One of the many pre-homeowner desires I have had is the ice maker. Others include(d): central air and heat, a card room (er, finished basement), and an in-ground pool...

Suffice it to say, we got the fridge to the new Casa de Famiglia to find that there was no water line to the area previously occupied by the former owner's refrigerator. Sadness ensued. What would follow over the course of the next nigh-three years is an epic tale that will be re-told through the coming generations. A tale so grandiose that not even a Kevin Costner movie could properly contain all of the drama. So, I will sum up. We rotated two ice cube trays the entire time, and my wife (who does do just about everything around the house) vehemently refused to ever fill a single tray. Fast-forward almost three years to this past Thursday evening...but first, yet another aside.

I have a "My Name Is Earl"-esque belief that I owe the world a lot of good deeds due to my past transgressions (especially those of the past couple of years). So it is to that end that I give help to a self-employed contractor who cannot read. A couple of times a week, this guy will come by and I will generate his invoices for him. It usually takes all of 10 minutes, and uses very little in the way of resources. He is a very good guy, and a very good contractor. As luck would have it, the gentleman described above has a way with plumbing - and after hearing me cry about the un-hooked-up ice maker for a few months, decided to hook it up for me. Oh happy day! We (mostly he - as my handyman abilities consist of handing tools to people that know how to use them) got the water line hooked up around 7pm. The next three to four hours would be the longest of my recent memory. He had never hooked up an ice maker before, nor did either of us know how long it would take before the unit would start pooping ice. At 10:47pm, our newly-hooked up ice maker gave birth to its first drink-cooling three-cube lump. I was so happy! The next couple of days were touch-and-go, as I was unsure if the unit was producing as it should. I am happy to report that the ice tray is full. Nay, it is bountifully nigh-overflowing. Life is good. It's not central air, but I will take it.

[Currently Listening: OAR - "Wonderful Day"]