A few days ago, our new fridge was delivered.
That in and of itself is not blog-worthy. Stay with me, friends.
As you might guess, the delivery itself wasn't too exciting. They took away our old fridge. They put the new one in its place. They hooked it up and leveled it (which is very important in our slope-floored old house).
There was a moment of confusion on my part when the two guys had it all done, stepped back, looked at the fridge, one said something like, "Looks real nice," then just sort of stared at me expectantly. I had already thanked them several times, so I just said, "Wow. That looks great. Very clean and new. And so level. Yes. Very nice." Because honestly? It looks like a fridge. Pretty much exactly like our old one, except cleaner and newer, which I made very clear to the delivery guys. I'm not sure what they tell them to expect at Refrigerator Delivery Guy school, but apparently it involves more bowing and exclaiming than I was prepared to do. (And I asked the sales lady at the store if I was supposed to tip because I once had a bad experience in New York City with tipping- or my lack thereof- and I'm now a teensy bit pathological about it. Her answer was a pretty emphatic "NO.")
Here's the thing, though: If those delivery guys were here today, I'd have a lot more to say. I would declaim, I would expound, I would gush.
Because of the milk.
Maybe 12 hours after the new fridge had been installed and I had transferred all our food into it, Derek got a glass of milk. Upon drinking it, I swear to you his eyes rolled back into his head, and not in the creepy way that yoga lady does it on my yoga DVD. This was eye-rolling of pure pleasure. So I got a glass of milk, and gracious.sakes.alive.
Imagine wandering in the desert for 40 years before finally being delivered to a land of milk and honey. This milk was better than that milk. That's right. I'm pitting our Aldi-brand skim milk in our new fridge against Promised Land milk. It is out of this galaxy. (Geddit? THE MILKY WAY? It's truly sad how hard I'm laughing at my own joke right now.)
It turns out milk is seriously delicious when it's cold. I'd somehow forgotten that. I used to love milk, and had thought that I'd just grown out of it in the last year or two. Truth be told, it made me kind of sad. Turns out we just had a really crappy fridge!
We knew it wasn't working exactly like it should. For the past couple years our food has been spoiling well before it should in there. There's been a mystery leak in the freezer. Milk has been merely cool.
You should hear Derek and I when we drink milk now. We wax poetic about milk, except neither of us are poets so it ends up sounding like "Ohmygosh. OHMYGOSH. It's so good. So good. Why is this milk so good? It's just so cold! And refreshing! And... and milky! And cold!"
And don't even get me started on ice. The ice maker on our old fridge gave up the ghost about a month ago, but with this new fridge, we can once again enjoy ice water ANY TIME WE WANT IT. Not as life-altering as our new, nourishing milk, but still. Pretty cool. (Hardy har har.)
This whole fridge/milk/ice/cold food thing has really got me into delayed gratification. That's basically what has happened here: We haven't had cold, cold milk in a couple years because we had a poorly-functioning fridge. As a result, we now appreciate our milk like it's our fourth-born child. Derek has even named the new refrigerator.
Imagine how much we're going to love our someday-dryer- you know, the one that doesn't make a perilously loud squealing sound every time you run it? And new vehicles? Ones where you don't have to avoid certain doors and knobs for fear of breaking them further/again, don't have to ignore ominous sounds and dash lights? Do you have any idea how much we're going to appreciate that stuff someday? Honestly, we do just fine without. But it's still certainly something to look forward to.
In the meantime, we have delicious milk.