We live in a disposable world

For years, I lived under the happy assumption that once you bought an appliance, you had it and could move on. I was dismayed when my dishwasher quit—maybe eight years ago—and the tech who installed the new one told me the old machine was probably 35 years old. Longer than I’ve lived in this house. That “new” dishwasher had to be replaced last fall.

Now my 22-year-old refrigerator appears to be on its last legs. Jacob told me yesterday that he tried to get ice and none would come out—and then it exploded ice all over. When I went into the kitchen, I detected the odor of an electrical overheating if not outright fire. Felt the panel over the ice maker, and it was hot. Apparently ice was jammed into the dispenser, so I cleaned it all out—twice. The panel cooled, and I’ve felt of it several times since. It remains fine and no ice has accumulated though I admit I’m a bit scared to try the in-the-door dispenser.

Jordan and Christian went refrigerator shopping today. Since they will be moving into my house they want a say in the fridge, which is only fair, and Christian said he will pay for it. But that’s a ways away, and I’m not ready to shell out $2,000 for a new fridge. Okay, the old one also leaks—but it makes ice and keeps food cold. I haven’t asked what they found because, like me, they’re busy watching TCU lose the bowl game to Oregon.

Years ago I was astounded by the advent of permanent press and fitted sheets. I had plenty of sheets, and they weren’t ragged. Why would I buy new sheets?

It seems we live in a world of replaceable commodities. I hate to sound like an old fuddy duddy, but back in the day manufacturers made things to last. Alas, now they make them—even cars—to wear out so we’ll have to buy new. By the by, my VW Bug is eleven years old, and I’m praying.