Tuesday, June 10, 2014
I was sure I'd kept a couple of old ice cube trays for just such a predicament. We're trading refrigerator and freezer with the guy who remodeled our kitchen, but he hasn't been able to mesh with the guy who has the big truck. So the old fridge is standing in the dining room, disconnected from water supply, and the new freezer, which has an ice maker, is in the garage, not yet connected to water supply. No functioning ice maker. We're living like animals. Not really. But today the last of the ice was almost gone, and I'd been searching the house for days trying to find those darn ice cube trays. Every closet and shelf and drawer that made any sense was scoured and perused and scoured again. So I stood in front of a big hutch that used to function as a home office and sewing station, which now houses everything from travel ear-plugs to reserves of popcorn and prayed. It was rather a whiny prayer: "Lo-ord, where are those ice-cube trays?" I even spoke to the angels, in case they were listening. "If they're here, you know where they are. How about helping me out?" Then I got down on my knees to look one more time at the lower shelves. Straight ahead, at nose level, on the pullout keyboard shelf, were two ice cube trays. There's something epigrammatic here about ending up where I should have started. I'll let you figure it out.