The Ice Man Cometh. And Leaveth.

With a very heavy heart we discovered that there is indeed a life expectancy to the ice crushing motor in one's ice crushable fridge. Evidently (as with, alas, most of my motor-operated machinery) in my home, being owned by moi significantly lessens that life span. Not only am I in no-crushed ice agony, but the entire fridge is beginning to make horrendous groaning noises.

I have noted, from great personal experience, this is not a good sign.

No, I'm not terribly proud of this knowledge, being able, that is to distinguish between Regular Wear and Tear of a motor operated item (any motor operated machine, ps.) and those in any stage of The Agonal Stages Of Death. First, as with the fridge tonight, the settling in moan turns ever so slightly to a far more sinister groan. Even the water, as it lovingly enters into my much loved ice making feeziery part sounds tortured. When the entire thing sort of shifted it's weight, settling into the floor with a death rattle, much akin to say, my rotund dog digging her heals in, refusing to do anything, unless she wills it, the poor bastard I believe, has crushed it's last cube.

Much to my dismay.

And Danielle's.

Since it will be to her house where I will find myself, at the wee hours of the morn, (read: ten am) to fill 'er up. Her crushed ice, by the way, should you be curious, remains far superior to mine. We have similar models, however, her ice has a greater trapped air quantity, making it the perfect edible crushed ice submerged in water, devoured with a spoon. I've kept my maker on Quick Ice, with the hopes of repeating this amazing frozen feat; I've come close, however now, the bushings (weird motor holding piece thingies) are not handling the ice correctly, thus jamming the blades.

My standing there, swearing, shoving at the ice tray, bouncing it up and down is not helping. Or so I've been told.

This whole enigma with freaking motor operated stuff in the house (or, perhaps, best said, my possession) annoys the living daylights out of me. The blender? Overuse. Same with two of the Blackberry cell phones. The little bally mouse thing broke. Twice. One of them taking a spin through the dishwasher did not help. The car? Totally Mother Nature on that one. However, I can say, with incredible certainty the Carpet Cleaner was murdered. In cold, soapy blood too.

I'd know by whom, but I'm still awaiting the results from the fingerprint lab.

A washer died, two years ago, from some sort of weird ailment, beginning agin, with a funky noise, followed quickly on the heels, by the death rattle.

The "all appliance insurance policy" the current condo owner purchased apparently didn't cover whatever killed the washer.

I don't even dare call regarding the little matter of the Groaning Fridge.

I'd simply replace the parts, but doing that is damn near three quarters of the fridge itself! And that is simply not in the budget.

I suppose, (sigh), for the time being, I'm going to have to put the thoughts of a new fridge, on ice.