Stainless Steel Sasquatch
My grandmother reminded me that you learn something new every day. Grandma Ackerman was right but neglected to point out that some of those lessons were not freebies.
I can’t recall her sharing that if you buy a house built in 1961, a 2019 refrigerator would be too wide to squeeze through the doorways and into the kitchen without Vaseline. As Americans get wider, refrigerators are also plumping up to hold the food needed to satisfy our larger girths.
I know this because I just bought a fridge that looks like it could have been a reincarnated AMC Pacer from 1974. Shortly after moving to our new abode in Nashua last month, the appliance died and we lived out of a beach cooler for two weeks. Soggy bags of ice kept our essentials cold enough until the Sasquatch of refrigerators arrived two weeks ago. Bigfoot was shiny and silver but despite our size estimates, needed to lose some weight.
So the doors came off and it was still too big to get across the threshold and into the kitchen. So while we waited for the crew of Fixer Upper to arrive, this behemoth lived in the foyer, where it became evident that visitors could grab their own beer as they entered the front doors, a temporary silver lining.
Our new fridge joined the oversized treadmill that lives in the laundry room, serving the noble purpose of holding clothes that come out of the dryer. It won’t fit through any doorways either. Add that to our pulled-apart Bowflex and you’ve got a Planet Fitness equipment grave yard.
I’m afraid to see what’s in the backyard pool when it gets opened next month. I’m afraid I could find a recumbent bike, 1974 color console TV and the Maytag repairman. But back to the fridge.
The entrance from the foyer to kitchen was forcibly opened to accommodate passage for the refrigerator. It finally rests where it should. The fridge is more spacious than my first apartment. It contains secret doors and passageways. It reminded me of when Geraldo Rivera unsealed the vault of Al Capone on live TV. I’m happy to report Geraldo does not know where I live and Al Capone is nowhere to be found in Nashua.
Now comes the fun part: Shopping to re-stock the new fridge. From a tiny cooler to a food truck wannabe, it was time to hit Costco. With 15 Easter guests coming, we needed to shop until we dropped. After fighting Good Friday crowds, $460 later, we were ready for company. It was a thrill to fill the new chest with a three-pack of canned whipped cream, spiral cut ham and a four-pound slab of bacon.
As we lined up to check out and pay up, we were amused by the guy ahead of us, eating a rotisserie chicken with his hands as he approached the cashier. Poor guy might only have a cooler at home and has to eat on the run.
Contact Mike Morin at mike firstname.lastname@example.org or follow him on Twitter at @MikeMorinMedia. His column runs the first, third and fifth Tuesdays of the month.