I cleaned the newly running fridge very thoroughly. And I don't toss "very" around like some people do. I disassembled the freezer door/drawer mounting (more than I really had to, as it turned out), did hands-and-knees to clean the freezer and the coil area at the base, swept under, cleaned off, de-decorated and wiped down, and, perhaps most goofily, gave all the interior's removable parts a long warm bath in Dr. Bronner's peppermint, which the tub still smells like. They soaked and had a real spa of it, and left a ring.
Even though it's the end of the evening, I just popped open one of my throwback Pepsis (from the cooler) and served it over ice, from the fresh-up-and-running freezer, in one of my orange and yellow WE Women's Entertainment Television tumblers. Dang if the first gulp wasn't a gloriously intense burst of flavor like advertising tries to make you think you'll be getting all the time, except that it can't be exceptionally good all the time, or it wouldn't be exceptional, would it.
This fridge is a better fridge than I'd have been able to get if it had been totaled.
This fridge is the fridge my ex- wrote wistfully of after she left it, saying how she'd once had her dream fridge but had had to leave it behind, boy how she missed that fridge, she really loved it, truly, it meant so much to her, they had a rare kind of connection and it would always have a place in her heart, and she still wondered, often, how it was doing, whether it ever missed her, thinking of the times they'd had together, those were some of the best days of her life she had with that fridge, some really special stuff, she was just so glad she'd had it in her life, if only for a wondrously fleeting twinkle of time, and no matter what fridges she might know in the future, she'd never again know one with quite that mix of qualities, that exact clear "click" with her, that sweet particular intimate embrace that only those two alone could ever have had.