Refrigerators (unlike myself) Are Cool

Thank goodness for refrigerators! Long gone are the days when we salted meat for fear it would spoil (although, don't I love some good dried venison) or hid vegetables in mountain springs! How much better is watermelon (or diet coke for that matter) when it's been sitting all day in cold air?? Here here, fridges! Good work.

The fridge at the PH D, however, is less PH D-liteful and more PH D-manding of my patience (snap!). First and foremost on the list of less-than-ideal qualities of our sweet little fridge is the limited real estate in there. It's a small fridge for four big eaters. I'm not calling us fat, girls. Nay, we are (it's unbelievable) four twenty-somethings who actually have functional, healthy attitudes about food. Here here, girls! Good work! But jesus christ, that fridge looks like my stomach feels after dinner at Outback. Or like any suitcase I ever take anywhere.

Also, maybe this is just me, but I don't think we really need to refrigerate bagels.

The stuffed-to-the-brim look of our fridge is indicative of good things: we do eat, in fact. And we grocery shop and cook instead of ordering in every night (...annnnnd that's a total lie), but at least we intend to cook the things we buy! Good work, girls! But though intending to but not really ever cooking means we get to eat so many orders of delicious Gramercy Cheese Fries, it also means we neglect the food in our fridge. Enter another MAJOR problem when it comes to the fridger. Ew, gross, sometimes it gets so gross. Yes, fridges are meant to keep foods from spoiling, but they aren't super-power-God-forces that preserve food forever as we PH Divas (myself v much included) sometimes seem to believe!! I will spare you the most graphic examples of some of the little treasures we have discovered lurking in the far-reaches of our fridgy (H, please feel free to share some stories, if you feel so inclined); all I'll say is this: that shit gets nasty.

Our particular fridge also has some unique quirks that annoy the shit out of me: A broken bottom drawer. Opening it, retrieving its desired contents, and closing it replaces a trip to the gym--burns just as many calories and takes just as damn long and is equally unpleasant. There is also a restraintless door-shelf, which, if you open the door too quickly, spills its contents (mostly salad dressings) with a clatter onto the kitchen floor. Loud and messy. I gotta say, though, these spills are the exception to the rule. I have to give the ol fridger (and those salad dressing bottles) props for their impressive balancing act.

I just gave my refrigerator props. I think that means it needs a name (suggestions, girls?!!). Or that I need to be less lame.

signing off,

A.