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


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.


My Fridge Heads to the Kitchen in the Sky


My fridge died yesterday. I’m no fridgician, but I attribute the cause of death to internal bleeding. I’d noticed water on the floor a day or two ago, and in the way these things go, I wasn’t too concerned.

My fridge was tottering on realm of the elderly. It even had some minor surgeries, completed with help from the miraculous duct tape,  But, alas, I did not realize how dire things were.

I opened the door, and there was a little water on the plastic below the fruit and vegetable drawers.

“Huh,” I said to myself. “I wonder where that came from?” I pulled out the drawer and discovered a new, vast body of water, pooled beneath the drawers.

So farewell old friend. Though I won’t miss the compartment on the door coming loose and bottles falling on my toes. Or the array of odd noises you make. Or the uncertainty that you are, in fact, properly refrigerating my food to a degree to prevent food poisoning.

But otherwise, farewell, old friend. I’m thinking maybe a side-by-side.