Philo Christmas gifts have become depressingly predictable in recent years. Three years ago, the furnace made a fuss in December. Last year, the range bit the dust in November. Now, the refrigerator’s belching rudely before, during, and after meals.
“The compressor’s going out,” HIram announced yesterday. “Better start shopping for a new fridge.”
“But, but, but…” I sputtered as visions of impractical presents flew out of my head.
Hiram interrupted. “Or would you rather have it go out completely and lose the food in it?”
Who can argue with that kind of logic?
“Guess what the money you’re giving us for Christmas goes to this year?” I asked Mom when we went out for breakfast this morning. “A new refrigerator!” I put a brave face on it. “I not surprised. The kitchen appliances were new in the early 90s when we remodeled the kitchen. They’re wearing out, one by one.”
Mom’s eyes twinkled. “My old refrigerator still works. John keeps it in the garage.” With a smirk she asked. “When did I buy it?”
“1965 or so.”
“Never had a day’s trouble with it.”
Gloat, gloat, gloat.
I almost told my smug, Methodist, teetotaler of a mother that her son John stores B-E-E-R in her old refrigerator. But I held my tongue. No need to upset her so close to her annual writing of the Christmas checks. Not when the washer and dryer are shaking and shimmying with an alarming lack of rhythm every laundry day.
Our appliances are dropping like flies, which means extra cash flow could be the only thing between the Philos and empty stockings this holiday season.
Merry Christmas!
