New refrigerator was love at first sight

We’ve all had dreams, visions of great things that we imagined for ourselves: becoming an astronaut or a superhero or a fire-engine driver.
Maybe that CCM Super Cycle in Law’s Hardware was on the top of the list; I know it topped my list for several years until my tenth birthday rolled around and I got to bring it home, complete with white streamers hanging from the handlebars. Then I could move on to a new dream.
I dreamed of being a farmer, with my dad. I wanted to live out my days on Bonnie Brae Farm on Rainy River. It didn’t seem too much to dream for; it wasn’t like wanting to fly or having a Peter-Pan-like fort in the forest.
I remember my brother droning on about some fancy car that he wanted that had a four-barrel this and a Cleveland racing engine that. I have deleted the precise details from my memory bank. I have dreamt about a myriad of wonderful things and circumstances, but never did I imagine that my heart would skip a beat, my face flush, my pulse quicken over (brace yourself) … refrigerator.
I know, I’m embarrassed, too. I hope you’ll forgive me for what seems like a rather shallow achievement.
I thought maybe I would run a marathon or climb something high though I’m a bit wary of heights. I thought I might stumble upon a cure for something or notice a new star in the heavens.
I might have wondered about winning a Giller or a Pulitzer, maybe even a Nobel Peace Prize if I worked hard enough. But a refrigerator? Who knew it would come to this.
Does this mean it’s all down hill from here?
What can I say; I saw this particular refrigerator in a store in the town to where I am moving. The refrigerator was beautiful, all white and perfect, its French doors so welcoming, the space large enough for an entire side of beef, or a whole field of vegetables if that is your preference.
The sliding freezer compartment below is so efficient and intelligent, making its own ice cubes without anyone telling it to. Miraculous.
It was love at first sight.
When I have a problem now, I imagine that the solution is in that refrigerator. This refrigerator will be the answer to all of life’s dilemmas.
I am quite certain that no food will go bad on those crystal clear glass shelves, no science projects growing mold deep in the back, out of reach, where the light is dim, no cucumber turning to a gooey liquid mess.
Nothing will spill in this refrigerator; no milk will get crusty and turn into something that only dynamite or a blowtorch will loosen. And nothing, absolutely nothing served from this refrigerator will be un-tasty or bad for my health.
I’m confident of this fact and, I must confess, I am banking on it.
I’ve had new appliances over the years, not many but some. I chose wisely, pondered my decision for at least a day or so.
I happily read the manuals to see if there were any special instructions to keep it new or shiny, but I never felt any particular pride or devotion to said appliances.
But now I feel like I could get a job on The Price is Right, where I would introduce my guests to my refrigerator, spanning its beautiful front with my hands open in a welcoming way.
“Oh no,” I would have to say, shaking my head in a sort of apologetic manner. “You can look, but you must not touch.”
I would open her grand doors and try to conceal my ill-found pride at her egg holders and butter compartment.
“Just look,” I’d say smiling. “Her drawers are humidity controlled.” I’d shake my head in almost disbelief.
Then I’d nod, waiting for their sighs of approval, their hands at their chest as if they had never experienced such a sense of awe.
Yikes. That’s all I can say. Yikes.

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