Dear Archaic Refrigerator,

First of all, you're extremely photogenic, because you look a lot better in this photo than you do in person. I'm not trying to be rude, just honest.

We've been through a lot together over the last ten months, you and I.  Ten months.  That's nearly a year of me almost swearing every time I opened your door.  It's hard to recall every tender, precious moment we've shared, but here are some of the most stellar ones, in no particular order:

Every time I baked anything, it was a guessing game when choosing eggs out of the carton.  Inevitably, a good quarter of them would be frozen, so I had to keep cracking until I found a few that would work.  Thanks for making that game possible.

Remember that one time I made chicken Caesar salad?  And I stored the leftover lettuce safely on your shelf, so I could enjoy seconds for lunch the next day?  Oh, what a delight it was to find my romaine extra crunchy--due to the ice crystals you managed to bestow on the leaves in less than 24 hours.  It's been ever so pleasant wasting so much food during the past year because you continually ruined what was supposed to be tomorrow's lunch or dinner.

Wasn't it funny how we couldn't put anything in your crisper drawers, because they would flood with water?

Really, we couldn't put anything in you anywhere without it at some point being covered with water, which is why half of the labels eventually slid off our salad dressing bottles.  I started organizing groceries in the plastic bags we brought them home from the store in, which was my feeble attempt at trying to keep things dry.

One of my favorite things about you was your missing shelf.

And every time I opened your freezer door, I looked forward to our fated game of catch, since it was one big, shelf-less cavity, too, and its contents would come spilling onto the garage floor.

Oh, that's right!  How could I forget?!  The BEST part about our relationship the last 10 months has definitely been your location.  Outside.  In the garage.  It was always fun explaining to babysitters and guests why you weren't inside the house.  On the other hand, I wonder if we could market an entire line of beauties such as yourself as weight loss tools . . . remember that time I watched an episode of The Walking Dead  late at night?  Right before Chad left for a guy's night out?  And I REALLY wanted ice cream smothered in hot fudge sauce?  But I was way too scared to go in the garage by myself?  Or there was that time I really wanted to bake chocolate chip cookies, but I was too lazy to go collect all the ingredients one at a time from the garage. I think we're on to something here . . .

In all seriousness, you're ancient, and you've more than served your time.  Thanks for at least keeping the bazillion gallons of milk my toddler consumes each week fresh enough for his sippy cups. In your antiquated state, I think we expected a bit too much of you.  You were less than stellar, but you got the job done, and for that I am grateful.  Having said that, I'd like to be the first to wish you a joyful retirement!  May the utility company deliver you to your recycled resting place swiftly, and may you rest in peace.

Respectfully,
The Woman Who's Paid her Refrigerator Dues


Dear Shiny, New Appliance in my Kitchen,

You are shiny and new and in my kitchen.

I think it's safe to say that for me it was love at first sight.

Fondly,

Your Greatest Fan