Yesterday I kicked the freezer for the last time. Now only peas and ice are left in its depths.
I’m feeling a bit conflicted about it. I mean, logically, it’s very old and I’m afraid one day it will burn the house down. The handle fell off several years ago and the drawers have been getting more and more busted to the point that closing them had required violence (what, you thought I was kicking it cause I was angry with it?). And yet… I’ve had this freezer since I was three years old. This is the end of the longest relationship in my life that isn’t with my parents or Frankie (the teddy bear I was given when I was born).
It’s strange. I mean, I know that I tend to anthropomorphise everything from my laptop, to my shoes, to my lunch. But I’ve never really done that with my freezer. It’s just always been there. A silent, reliable, (often rather too frosty) presence in my world. And now we’re going to dismember it and put it out on the street to be carried away by strangers who will destroy it.
Also I should maybe apologise for excessive madness. I am running on a rather severe sleep debt. And this time it’s not even my fault. It’s just that Rick’s sick. Which means he’s started to snore. And I am a ridiculously light sleeper.
You know how it goes.
Snoring leads to teeth grinding. Teeth grinding leads to lack of sleep. Lack of sleep leads to the dark side.
Or possibly a TARDIS. The new freezer came in this fantastic box. It’s bigger than me. It’s bigger than me and Paul and Rick. I want to paint it blue.
This is Paul’s fault. I said, We should turn it into a TARDIS. And he said, YES. To be fair, then he said:
Paul S: In reality — do you have time?
Me: I don’t have time to do anything. If I let that stop me… yeah, I don’t actually have an end for that sentence.
But then he offered to buy me blue paint. See? Totally his fault.