We got a new refrigerator. The night before it was due to be delivered we received a call informing us of the delivery time. At six the next morning (delivery day) we received a call from Eddie reminding us when to expect delivery. Did he have to call at 6 and wake us up? I told my husband to remind me to kick Eddie in the rear when he showed up. This fridge is different than our old one as the freezer use to be on top and now it’s on the bottom. I find myself reaching in the crisper for ice. After squeezing the lettuce one too many times it finally yelled at me, “Hey, just because I’m Iceberg lettuce does not mean I make ice. Get your hands off me lady.”

As I transferred the magnets from the old fridge to the new I sorted through them. I realized there were magnets that I’d ignored and forgotten all about; you know, the way you ignore your spouse, even though he’s in the same room. I vowed to myself this time I would not let my fridge become hidden behind a sea of magnets.

Even though I like the new fridge it makes me nervous. Why would a fridge make a person nervous you might wonder? I’ll tell you. There’s a ‘timer feature.’ If the door is open one minute it starts to beeps. Since it took time to arrange all the food, it was constantly beeping. It was like being trapped in a pinball machine. I threw in mustard. It beeped. I threw in ketchup. It beeped. I felt like I was a contestant in Beat the Clock. It reminds me of my microwave which beeps to remind you to remove your heated food.

With this fridge, gone are the days of standing in front of it, holding the door open, taking an hour to take stock of the contents, closing the door and saying, “There’s nothing to eat in this house.” When I was a kid if I held the doors and waited for something magically delicious to appear my mother would yell,” You’re letting the cold air out. Get what you want and shut the door.” With this refrigerator there’s no funny business. No dawdling. Get in. Get out. There’s no mother to yell at you; the fridge does. It makes me fell like I’m 10 years old again, which explains the nervousness. I shall call this feature… the ‘mother feature.’

Leave a Reply