I'm in love.
Larry and I went to BestBuy this morning on our date (yes, I know - the romance is just overwhelming): he needed to check out prices on computers (don't ask) and I was ogling flattop stoves, because last week I decided that my life is too short to spend cleaning burner drip pans.
On my way back to the computer area, I saw it. My refrigerator. The one I'm destined for. The one that will solve all my cold storage problems.
Now, I'm not some young slip of a housewife, unaware of the ways of the world and easily charmed by anything with a plug and a frostfree interior. Over the years I have become inured to the charms of shiny new appliances, for I have learned the truth: give them a month in my house, and they look as though they are ready for the dump. But still...one look inside this beauty, at its capacious door storage, its unsullied crispers, its pull-out bottom freezer...and I was smitten.
Unfortunately, one glance at its price tag destroyed our budding relationship (and it didn't help that Larry laughed at my infatuation). This love, apparently, was doomed to be unrequited.