Okay—give me a second to set the setting for this little entry: Tuesday, hot, busy taking the kids 'round to get haircuts, shopping for the requested July 4th parade outfit for Little Miss Shiner Cayley, picking up needed prescriptions for the seriously ill kinfolk. Get home to find the icebox making odd whirring noises that were much louder and more sickly-sounding than its usual growling statements [this thing is usually loud and grumpy, probably due to its age].

The fridge was going out. Dying. It was time to put the old thing out of its misery. [Insert internal monologue: Great! I get a new refrigerator! This time with an icemaker! Wait—this means that I have to go shopping for a new refrigerator at 8 o’clock at night, before this one kicks the bucket and all the stuff inside goes belly-up along with it. Great. Just great.]

Lowe’s was first on the list of places to stop—simply because it was the closest place, given that I live out in the boondocks [sticks, country, etc.] and I’d be driving into town from that direction. Now, don’t get me wrong, Lowe’s is chock-full of stuff [on display], so it was a logical choice—the problem, however, seems to be that despite what their website says is available, the store still may not actually have it in stock [and that’s once you actually find a sales-person to help you—they seem to be few and far between]. Or “in stock” could also be Lowe’s-speak for “sorry, but it’s in the back waiting on parts.” Parts? For a new refrigerator? Needless to say, my search for the appliance there was a wasted effort.

Sears was next. The mall’s right there, after all, and thankfully, they were still open. The good things first: they had plenty of refrigerators to choose from—more than I’d actually thought they’d have—ranging from the most affordable in name brand appliances to the top-end fancy stuff that’s as aesthetically appealing as it is functional [and full of computer what’s-its and doo-dads]. Not only was there an eager saleswoman ready to satisfy my questions and concerns, but there were plenty of iceboxes in my price range and size requirements. Most importantly, they had what I wanted in stock. Woot. Time for a happy dance [in my head y’all, not in public—didn’t want to scare the normal-type folk].

But you all realize that there’s a “but” coming, right? Of course you do—y’all are too sharp to not realize that rarely do the stories of my little ventures out into the mad, mad world end without there being a huge wrench tossed in somewhere. Ahem. So let me get to it.

I pay for the fridge, grab my receipt, and head back to the truck to move it around to the backside of the mall and the pick-up area. I back in, open the tailgate, and mosey on inside to scan the barcode to let them know that I’m there waiting. Within five minutes my name pops up on the television screen to let me know that my icebox is being delivered. They load it up into the back of the truck as pretty as you please, then hop out without a word, and head back inside.

One small problem. The fridge isn’t tied down. [Picture my face—horror-stricken.] Right. So it seems that because our society has gotten overly sue-happy, Sears’ liability insurance is such that they can no longer help its customers by tying down merchandise in the back of their vehicles—I’m pretty sure that other stores have similar policies, so this blog isn’t written with the intention to point and shake a finger Sears’ way, but to point a finger at the collective “us” and say, “Shame, shame.”

Frivolous lawsuits—what a waste.

Actually, I do have another point. Or two. Possibly three—y’all know how I ramble.

Needless to say, I wasn’t entirely alone in my horror or surprise by the lack of assistance. There was a nice couple in an SUV who’d just taken delivery of their replacement treadmill [warranty exchange sort of deal, from what I gathered, which wasn’t altogether timely—so tsk, tsk, on you Sears] and the gentleman offered to lend me a hand. Thankfully, I had some rope in the back of the truck, and he grabbed it and got to work. While he worked he admitted to having never been a Boy Scout, and the admission was not without merit. His knots were not as effective as they ought to have been [but thank you all the same, Mr. Guy-at-Sears-with-the-nice-wife-who-actually-offe red-to-help!], so he tied up one side, and I quickly stepped in to tie up the other.

I did the whole, make a loop in the rope so that you can thread the other end through it and gain some leverage as far as actually getting the whole thing tight, thing [a girl doesn’t live on a ranch and not figure out how to tie stuff up or down]. If that description’s too technical for y’all to envision—tough.

But that was only around the middle of the fridge. Still, the nice-guy said as long as I drove really slowly it ought to get me where I was going with the icebox still intact. As I eased around the mall from the back-side to the front-side, however, I began to have some serious doubts.

I forgot to mention that there were also a pair of ratchet-straps in the back of the truck—but there were.

So there I am, parked in front of Sears, in a pair of Adidas jogging pants and a grey Army t-shirt, climbing into the back of the truck. I had to figure out those doggone straps. The fridge was top-heavy, and I had to secure something over the top of it keep it from falling over, going boom, and seriously ticking me off. There were plenty of people who drove by the Chevy pick-up and looked at me as if I were some carnival freak in a free show, but no one ever bothered to stop and ask if I needed help or anything.

Maybe I looked entirely capable [I am, by the way], or maybe we’ve just stopped caring about helping other people [because they could sue us].

The moral of this story is this: ladies, because none of you guys are going to ever admit to not knowing how, learn how to tie down appliances. Buy a pair [or two] of ratcheting-straps and keep them handy, but don’t forget to play with them before you actually need them so that when you do need them you know how to work them. You never know when your fridge/stove/washing machine is going to go out, or when there will be nobody around to offer you assistance.