When I was growing up, my dad paid close attention to the fridge. He liked to know how long the door was open. In milliseconds. My dad thought he could buy a Ferrari if it weren't for our reckless misuse of refrigeration...
"Maybe," he'd say, "you want to take a picture and come back when you're ready?"
And I, already ill with Smart Aleck's Disease, would say, "But I'm looking for a food that gives off the right energy."
And he'd smack me in the head.
It happened so often that I developed a complex. Whenever I reached for the fridge, I had to ask, "Am I hungry enough to risk head injury?"
Today, all these refrigerators later, I still get nervous when I stand at the fridge. I feel the pressure to make a decision before the Jeopardy music ends and I get whacked in the head.
My wife, on the other hand, opens the fridge "just because." In the summer she waves it like a paddle fan to freshen her forehead. It's enough to give you a nervous breakdown.
One time I walked in to find that she had left the door open and ABANDONED THE SCENE ALTOGETHER. And though nothing has happened yet, I'm keeping my distance in case my dad's fist somehow falls out of the sky.
