I’m Giddy over My Fridge, and I Don’t Care Who Knows It

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For the first time in my life, I was excited to put my groceries away. If you saw Friday’s bit, you know that my former fridge is no more: the fridge is dead, long live the new fridge.

And it’s a beaut. I came home with a heavy cart loaded with fresh foods, and the fridge swallowed the groceries all in one dainty bite. I haven’t yet stocked the freezer with my beloved frozen veggies, and probably won’t today, given that the sky seems to have forgotten how do do anything but snow, but there’s all this blank space, ready to host bag upon bag in a way I can find them.

No struggling with drawers happier closed than open. No vying for shelf space. Knowing that if I put something in the door, it was likely to stay there without secretly planning its thrill-seeking jump to the floor. Or my foot.

The produce bins took all the fruit and vegetables I bought and then seemed to ask if maybe I didn’t have more. And when I took my Greek vanilla yogurt out of the fridge to make my breakfast of yogurt, berries and nuts, no part of my brain wondered if it would exact revenge.

Thank you, presidents, for having a day that naturally lends itself to sales. My new refrigerator and I will be very happy together.