CHILLED SECRETS

Our fridge resembles a crime scene report.

They say every fridge tells a story. Ours resembles a crime scene report - cold, gross, and filled with unpleasant surprises. Our fridge has always been unbalanced – literally – which results in a pooling of its bodily fluids down and to the left, where they creep out from beneath the vegetable crisping bins and slither out to leave forensic kisses on our now permanently stained linoleum.
This chronic incontinence has led to anger management problems. When I tried to open the freezer the other day, the enraged appliance threw a ceramic bowl at me. Fortunately, it only grazed my noggin. I delivered a stern lecture, but how do you put an appliance into time-out? Our microwave passed away suddenly a couple of weeks ago, and I admit – I did suspect the fridge of foul play. So much sibling rivalry there (sigh).
Recently, our frisky fridge started freezing eggs in their cartons – with no adjustment in temperature settings from us. A progressive educator would call that “creative and imaginative play,” but I call it annoying, or perhaps Multiple Personality Disorder. It seems an appropriate description for an appliance that one day is possessed by Satan and the next by Pollyanna. Or is that how every fridge behaves?
I’m thankful we bought that miniature crime scene tape on salvage. At the rate we’re going, we’ll get through all six boxes before the end of the year, not counting what’s necessary to tape off my personal culinary disasters.

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