On Refrigerators

It is surprising how the aesthetic of an average object causes me to take said object for granted. The object to which I am referring is none other than the refrigerator. I simply cannot deny the astute nobility of the refrigerator--its smartly rectangular armor and magnetic medals of honor plastered to every square inch. The proprietor of such an object may not always note the fine workmanship of its smooth, graceful handles, which softly answer physical contact with the slight hum of electricity coursing through its powerful, chilling bodice.

When opened, the refrigerator softly exhales its cool breath to reveal the freshly vibrant contents which occupy its open abdomen. Salami, tomatoes, milk, eggplant, avocado, spinach, apples, grapefruit, Greek yogurt, cilantro, eggs, orange juice all categorized in their cliquish classes according to food status. They bask in their resolute, refrigerated glory with dignified smirks beckoning to the hungry hand. Two glimmering, glass shelves and two crisp, clean drawers boast of practicality for ideal categorization. The top shelf holds fruit and vegetables which are proudly pitted on clean pedestals like newly awarded Olympic athletes. Below them lie the humble but essential milk and eggs. Beneath this mildly chilling vessel lies the icebox. Slightly lonelier and neglected, the icebox cradles freezer-burnt berries, leftover meatloaf, and a pitiful attempt at homemade Popsicles.

Though I cannot demean the majesty of the refrigerator, I additionally cannot ignore the stark veracity that this basic house appliance is both a blessing and a curse, an ally and an enemy, a friend and a foe. I am surprised at the lack of lawsuits against the invention of the refrigerator for the expanding American waistline. Can you imagine? Suing the inventor of the refrigerator for one's voluntary consumption of sustenance? 

As a child, I recall gazing up into the refrigerator contents with wide eyes and scraped knees after a long day of grade school, standing on tiptoes and reaching for a juice box. I did not foresee then that in later years I'd be standing in the same position with the same juice box counting the calories with a more judicious gaze. I now try to take a moment and think of others who would appreciate this storage vessel a considerable deal more than I. It is now that I strive to consciously take a moment to walk to the door and invite Gratitude and Moderation.