“Geezap!”
A very mild, buzzing electrical shock went through my hand. I shake my hand as I yank open the door. Leaning down, I put my other hand on the top.
“Geezappppt!”
He’s at it again. “Cousin It”, our refrigerator. The odd-duck of all our appliances. The first thing visitors notice on their virginal trip into our kitchen.
“It” was already some 30 years old when we moved in 27 years ago. Standing less than 5 feet high with rounded corners and chipped white porcelain, “It” has survived three stove/ovens and two pairs of washer/dryers.
“It” gives out little shocks every now and then, not too often. Sometimes in the middle of the night, “It” sounds like it's gargling metal scraps and bearings.
The “freezer”, (which lost its door sometime in the ‘70s), is a suspended blue-enamel box with Flash Gordon piping which measures 11x12x8. Thaaaat’s right. That’s all there is.
Right now, the freezer can't take any foodstuffs. There is a small slot where we could store a couple of pancakes, due to a 4-inch glacier of ice on every surface.
“It” is not “frost-free”.
“It” is “frost-plus”.
Which brings up another subject.
Defrosting “It” is a lesson in creative household engineering, not unlike the Apollo Thirteen return to earth. Oh, yeah - it's an adventure.
Step One: Open door and leave open. Turn freezer control to “off” utilizing simple dial.
(The 1950’s TV rocketman hero, Commando Cody, had an “up/down” dial to fly. “It” has a “freeze/off” dial to ice up.)
Step Two: Everything, (all 5.63 cubic feet of “It”), goes onto kitchen table. Bottom 1/3 is a crisper, not a refrigerator. Place all hidden potatoes and onions onto table.
Step Three: Get all towels from bathroom to cover bottom shelf. (This really ticks off the person in the shower.) Position lasagna pan and coffeecake pan exactly, carefully, under freezer. Make sure sides touch to keep water from leaking through.
(It won’t matter, but at least I tried.)
Step Four: Get ironing board and electric space heater from back room. Put ironing board in front of freezer. Position space heater as close to front of the freezer as possible. Plug it in. Move heater dial to “cauterize”. Move carefully away. Run.
Steps Five through Twelve: Every 10 minutes for next 2 hours move ironing board/heater, empty pans of water – most onto floor and some into sink. Grab chef’s knife. Take stabs at icepack.
(This stabbing doesn't help, but I feel like I'm giving “It” a lesson in payback. To increase my enjoyment, I mutter mob-style threats under my breath. If I ever learn Italian, so much the better.)
Step Thirteen: When freezer returns to original enamel blue, dry out shelves and walls. Put dripping towels into washer. Bail out crisper with measuring cup. Dry both. Put spuds and onions back. Replace foodstuffs in ‘fridge. Put dial at “freeze”. Close door.
There.
Done.
And since the floor is already under standing water, might as well scrub that, too.
You might be thinking, “So why put up with this antiquated retro-thing?”.
Good question.
“It” is taking pretty good care of our family perishables. Has been for decades. All day. All night.
And getting consistency with longevity is a rare pairing in today’s world.
Kinda reminds me of a few, longtime friends.
Odd-duck. Quirky. Cantankerous. Sometimes even shocking.
But always faithful.
Always there. Consistent.
Life would definitely be something less without them.
Isn’t that the reason we hold onto our “Cousin It”s?
"Geezap".