Monday, June 20, 2011

444. New Refrigerator Syndrome

Our refrigerator was dying a slow and painful death. If it was a person, it had the Black Plague. Virtually every morning would hear The Husband or myself say, “Oh, no, not again!” upon opening it to retrieve some milk or juice. Essentially, some important part of the refrigerator was broken, and so water was leaking down from the freezer part (even though we had no ice-maker and it was not hooked up to any water source) and mysteriously flooding the main part of the fridge and dripping all the way down to each and every shelf drenching the hidden bags of Mint Milanos and overpriced packages of Brie.

For those of you not familiar with official refrigerator terminology, the broken part was called $$$. Seems almost every refrigerator repair place you call does, in fact, carry $$$, and they are happy to bring it over right away.

After much consultation, The Husband decided to fix it himself. He did this by employing a quite famous fixing strategy called Ignore It And Hope It Goes Away. I would wake up in the morning, walk into the hall still in my pajamas, and grab a big, fluffy towel out of the linen closet.

“Are you going to take a shower?” The Husband would ask.

“No, Sweetie, I’m just going to look for some strawberries in the fridge.”

After five long months of soggy food, one day The Husband and I decided that we just couldn’t take it anymore.

We had a coupon, we went to Lowe’s. The next day, they delivered our fabulous new refrigerator. I would like to tell you it was an ordeal getting the old refrigerator out and the new one in, or that I hadn’t measured the doorway and the new one didn’t fit. That would make for a funny story. But Queen Virgo does indeed own a measuring tape (four, in fact), so everything fit just fine.

The first few times I opened the door, I was ready.

I had completely forgotten that most normal refrigerators are dry.

I developed an unnatural fixation/ love affair with our new refrigerator.

I would walk by it several times a day and pet it, so thrilled with my good luck.

“You are all mine,” I would whisper to the new fridge, and then I'd give it another smooch.

The Husband knew I had crossed the line when I got out my camera.

“What are you doing?!” he said accusatorily.

“I’m just taking a couple photos of the new fridge, you know, so I can maybe frame them and put them on my desk upstairs. That way, even if I’m not in the kitchen, I can always see our new fridge.” I grinned, oblivious to my ever-growing psychosis.

The Husband took my hand gently, and led me out of the room.

“MOV, come with me.”

We walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. He gave me a little hug, like he might be worried about me.  Then, he reached for an envelope on the coffee table. He opened it up, and handed the contents to me.

He smiled broadly and said, “I already got a couple of shots printed.”



  1. Your refrigerator looks super cool. Does he have a brother?

  2. He does have a twin! would you like to meet him? He is also quite photogenic (and, if you must know, a little bit taller).



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