Sorry, didn't have time to post on the weekend. I was too busy opening and closing the fridge doors and sighing. And besides that, the weather was so great on Sunday that I actually ventured outside for minutes at a time. After a couple of rain showers in the morning, the sun came out and it remained a balmy 18°C (64°F) the entire day. T-shirt weather has finally arrived. If I had been able to find a pair of shorts that still fit me (reminder to self: more power walking, less peanut butter) I would have put them on.
Now back to the matter at hand. Yes, we got the thing of beauty into the kitchen on Friday with a minimum of fuss. Taking the fridge doors off was a piece of cake, and by doing that, we got it through the door frame with about thismuchspace to spare on either side. Mr M pulled from the front, I pushed from the back and Boy9 held the water hose thingie down with a spatula, and all of a sudden the planets aligned and we were home free.
When we first looked at the fridge we weren't quite sure where we were going to put it or if we'd be able to hook it up to the water supply. But since the model with the ice maker was on sale, making it less expensive than the model without, we took it anyway. After Mr. M had made a bit of room in the kitchen by moving the dishwasher over slightly and removing a work surface that I never really used, we found that the fridge would fit perfecly into that space. Right next to the water hook up. Yes!
Saturday was all about transferring everything from the old fridge/freezer (which was still in the kitchen as well, but in a different location) to the new. The old fridge then got banished to the basement where we'll probably continue to use it for beer and other essential items.
A couple of people mentioned in the comments of my previous post that this would be no big deal if we lived in N. America and that's so true. There, if you told someone you got a new fridge, they'd probably start yawning. It's just a regular, if somewhat high-tech, fridge. Here, it's like all the neighbours have to come over and take a look at the utter decadence. Our duplex neighbour was suitably impressed and called it a Luxuskühlschrank - a luxury fridge. Heh. We may start charging admission.
Naturally I have no peace in the kitchen now with everyone running in and out every five minutes to fill their glasses with ice cubes or crushed ice, my husband being the worst culprit. I'm hoping the novelty will start to wear off in a week or two. Mr. M, however, is looking forward to a long, hot summer filled with iced cocktails and little paper umbrellas.
But my better half hasn't always had such an easy relationship with ice cubes. He's German, remember, and Germans have a thing about cold drinks. It's a well-known German old wives tale that if your drink is too cold, you will immediately get pneumonia and die. Oh yes, it's true. Just ask my in-laws.
When I first moved to Germany, I asked Mr. M where his ice cube tray was and he replied, "Ice...cubes? What are these 'ice cubes' of which you speak?" They do actually sell ice cube trays in Germany, so we went out and got one. After that it was a cautious "You mean I won't get pneumonia and die if I put ice in my drink? Promise? Cool!" And the search for the perfect ice cube tray was on. Over the years we must have collected about ten of the things - all different shapes, sizes and materials.
I guess we really have no more use for them now, but maybe I'll keep a couple for old time's sake - to remember the day when Mr. M finally moved into the ice age.