Day 18, no fridge

Continuing on the theme of a simple life, we're now on the 18th day of having no refrigerator. I'm not handling it as well as Ma Ingalls would.

Troy has taken it upon himself to order the Mother Board, which cost $100 -- not $700 as the Scary Repairman reported when he advised me to authorize his $1,000 repair job. Scary Repairman was the second "professional" to check out the fridge. I was just glad when he left that he didn't kill me and hide my body in the empty side-by-side.
The first repairman, Sheldon, seemed definitely more trustworthy, but he was just in way over his head. He looked at the compressor for an hour and just kept shaking his head. Towards the end of his visit, he asked Troy if we were church-goers. At the time, I couldn't figure out what he was getting at -- was he wondering why we have so many kids? Now I'm starting to think it was his subtle way of suggesting that we pray for a miracle.
The third repairman arrived when I was just pulling out of the driveway. Troy was home, and when I saw that repairman's truck pull up, I burned rubber down the road because I couldn't handle being involved in another clusterfuck. When I returned, he was gone and Troy said that I hadn't missed anything; #3 was clueless, too.
I know it's probably hard to muster sympathy, b/c you're probably thinking: why don't you just go buy a new refrigerator?
But you see, the one we have is built in, and so it's a strange size, and it's significantly cheaper to fix it rather than replace it. I'm constantly trying to pare down, and can't bring myself to buy a second refrigerator (assuming this main one can be saved).
So every day, we buy a bag of ice for $1.79 and I've pretty much thrown out all the condiments, as time has ticked by, save for the Tabasco sauce. Worcestershire sauce, and soy sauce. I buy frozen items that the boys like in small packages (like blueberries) so they can eat them right away. No storing!

Troy confessed the other night that he kind of likes the simplicity of living out of the cooler. Any charm has worn off for me. Tonight we're going to a party and I know there's going to be some good food passed around, like crabcakes, but I am most excited about the prospect of drinking a cold drink with fresh ice cubes that don't come out of a dubious plastic bag. I just want to shovel clean ice down my gullet. (You know how we Americans are about our icy cold drinks -- if I'm going to quaff a room-temperature beverage, I want it to be because I'm sitting on a tuffet in Morocco.)
The mother board is supposed to arrive Wednesday, and the hope is that it is the one & only board that needs replacing, not it + any of the other four boards in the compressor.