Our refrigerator had a near-death experience. It died for 24 hours. It’s a rather small refrigerator, but it has faithfully stored our organic vegetables and other goods for the last six years. And I did not feel like spending money on a new one today. But alas, one cannot survive in this day and age without a refrigerator. Shucks, I did not feel like wasting money on such a mundane household object. We could buy a huge trampoline with that sum! Or a new bicycle! Not something as boring as an electrical appliance that wasn’t supposed to kick the bucket. Not yet.
Ah well, such is life. Very seldom according to our plans. I gathered our frozen vegan-burgers, breads, and other knick knacks into our fungus-infested picnic cooler, to be transported to our friendly neighbors. The ice began to thaw, drip-dripping as it did throughout the night, covering the kitchen floor. Shir came by to check out the action and I occupied him by giving him pieces of ice to place in the garden and watch them melt. It started to get fun. Suddenly, there was a breath of life. The fridge turned on for a few moments. Was it a breath of life or a dying gasp? I decided to treat it like something that still has life in it. I cleaned it meticulously, silently hoping for its resurrection, wondering if I will actually allow myself to use the money we just “saved” on something decadent, like that delicious trampoline or maybe some fun stuff for the garden I want to build.
The fridge was clean, each and every plant in the garden now had its own personal ice cube, and we reinserted the electric cord.
A soft soothing hum. Alive!
So what is the point of this whole story? Well, I must confess, I did not defrost the refrigerator for months. I saw the ice packing in the back and just made do with less space inside as the ice continued to claim more territory. I simply ignored this annoying chore, wishing it away, making do with less. As the humming became increasingly louder each night, I convinced myself white noise is still a good thing to have around a sleeping toddler.
But it didn’t go away. It got worse. It froze over, until it became defunct and shut itself down. Until it got the attention it deserved and needed. That is what happened.
I just started reading the book Psychic Deadness by Michael Eigen. I think I am a bit like that refrigerator. If I don’t defrost once in a while I can’t just go on ad infinitum. I can go on for a while, making do with less and less space inside as parts of me get frozen and trapped, but eventually, I will shut down, make a scene, act dead, look dead, feel dead. Until I get the love and warmth and attention I absolutely need for my survival.
And when I get it, I’ll be back on my feet, humming away quietly to myself, as if nothing ever happened.