Is Your Refrigerator Running?

Tyrades! by Danny Tyree

If some retro prankster had asked me a week ago, “Is your refrigerator running?,” my reply would have been, “It’s complicated.”

(Actually, I would have reported the scamp to the authorities. In these enlightened times, “Is your refrigerator running?” obviously dredges up traumatic memories of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850. Or something. When you factor in all the Name-Brand-Products-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named that have systemically occupied shelf space in such kitchen appliances, it’s enough to make you grab a bottle of aspirin! But the cotton…Aaarrrggghhh!)

A recent power surge fried our coffee maker, shot several light bulbs, made our surge protectors suffer a noble death and conjured an ominous puff of smoke from the refrigerator compressor.

For weeks, the fridge made a valiant effort to carry on as usual, but it was not exactly The Little Engine That Could. (“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think…the vegetable crisper has produced something new for Dr. Fauci to look into.”)

We were in denial for a long time, but the ice cream finally forced us to accept reality. If you’re honest, you recognize that Rocky Roads should not have the consistency of hot asphalt.

Maybe it was my imagination, but the product labels seemed to say, not “Best if used by August 15,” but “Best if used by people with outstanding 911 service.”

This was an old refrigerator, but not old enough to be one of those foolproof pastel-colored models from the Seventies. You know, the kind that made bacteria exclaim, “Oh #@$% no! I ain’t goin’ around that thing!”

Having heard my parents’ stories of “hard times” (and having experienced more than my own fair share of power outages and frozen pipes), I frequently pause to give thanks for electricity and modern plumbing. But I know a lot of people would feel weird having to conserve the last vestiges of cool air in a terminally ill refrigerator.

Spoiled, wasteful humans are hardwired to stand there with the refrigerator door wide open, musing, “Okay, I’ve painstakingly selected a type of bread, and a luncheon meat and the perfect condiment…now I think I’ll stand here and find Waldo!”

...continued

swipe to next page