Our nine-year-old GE Profile refrigerator started it's long, slow walk toward its ultimate demise earlier this month. It all began with mushy chicken tenders from the freezer and ended with a room-temperature jug of milk just after Labor Day weekend. We shook our heads, emptied its shelves, and turned it off, planning its replacement from amongst the stunning collection at our local Lowe's. It sat forlorn and empty, devoid of everything except its collection of magnets and children's artwork. It was a simple fridge, nothing special. It cooled and froze. It dealt with having its two doors slammed, milk spilled, and vegetables spoiled. It held it all and took it all and one day, two weeks ago, decided it had had enough and left this world for...
Oh, Christ, who'm I kidding? It was a frakking refrigerator and we were giddy to have the chance to upgrade. Observe:
Samsung. 29 cubic feet. Let me say that again. Twenty. nine. cubic. feet. of storage. For milk. Frozen pizzas. Yogurt. CDC biological experiments that will someday cure cancer/HIV/the common cold/reality TV and not at all resembling liquid lettuce. Twenty-nine cubic feet of glory. Plus? Check out the numbered red circles:
1. Albert Einstein. Physicist. Genius. Fridge God.
2. Miss Britt people. Miss frakking Britt! On my fridge! Giving me the stink-eye every time I reach in for the left over Girl Scout cookies/birthday cake/ice cream. She's a goddess.
3. My bare feet. Don't stare too long or you might run screaming.
And remember that saying idle hands are the devil's workshop? Yeah. How 'bout A blank fridge is Satan's food storage. I believe that a lack of magnets is the work of Beelzebub.
The best part about the 29-cubic-feet of awesomeness now squatting in my kitchen?
The light. On the inside. It's not just white, it's like bluish-white. A heavenly salvation-white. And it doesn't just turn on. It's like a fade-on, getting brighter as the doors open. Check it.
It's the fridge built by Greys. And it's all mine. Quit drooling.