[Boomer]

Someone's in the kitchen with Booo-mer. Someone's in the kitchen I know-o-o-o.........

I know that you can see it. Just admit it. You can see it. I know you can.

I could see it the first time I ever laid eyes on one of those things. But I did not care. I wanted one. And I wanted a big one. The biggest one I could find. But I see it. I sure see it. And I know that you can, too.

But I never dreamed that it would come to mock me.

It’s right there. Plain as day. Actually, plain as the nose on your face even.

Yes. It’s right there. Can’t you see it?

The thing has a long narrow nose. A big wide mouth. And one big eye.

Or is it winking at me. Yes. Yes. That’s it. Winking.

And I do believe I can see it smirking. Yes. I know it is. Winking and smirking and mocking me and saying, “Go ahead. Just go ahead. Go ahead and try to shove me. You can’t shove me. I am way too big. I ain’t never gonna back up. You shoulda bought a counter-depth.”

You see, in my little kitchen, there now stands, a brand new, shiny, honkin’ French-door, standard-depth refrigerator. (And it looks like it has a face. Notice the next time you see one.) WhatinthehellwasIthinkin??? I was so convinced that I needed 5 extra cubic feet.

For what? Hummus and Chardonnay???

My kitchen is cozy….OK…it’s little. This refrigerator looks enormous. This thing is enormous. It sticks out way too far for its place.

But Mr. Boomer says it looks fine. Mr. Boomer has no decorating talent. Mr. Boomer is probably dreaming of filling it up with beer and every kind of cheese imaginable.

“Yeah,” I told him. “Yeah. Right. It looks fine if we belong to some kind of cult that worships giant French-Door, stainless-steel refrigerators.”

(I am going to tell him to go build me a tree-stand. This thing looks like a meat locker. Does anybody know if I can butcher on granite?)

Why in the world does Mr. Boomer think this huge refrigerator looks just fine? (I tried to take a picture of it so I could show it to you and get you on my side. But have you ever tried to take a picture of a huge, shiny, stainless-steel refrigerator when the camera flashes? That winking, smirking thing continues to mock me.)

Why does Mr. B want to keep it? Why can’t he see how goofy it looks?

Ohhhhhh, noooooo…....I just realized! That’s it! It’s finally happened. Just like I told you long ago. I told you about how I just knew. I always knew. Down deep in my heart, I knew that the only woman Mr. Boomer would ever leave me for is Paula Deen!!!

Yes! That’s it! Mr. Boomer wants to keep the giant refrigerator because Paula Deen is moving in and I am moving out. That has to be it! Oh woe is me. (Or is it woe is I?) I am devastated. I cannot compete with that butter and sour cream hussy. She will fill that huge refrigerator up with all manner of wicked and forbidden foods. That has to be why Mr. Boomer wants to keep it. I just know that has to be it.

(But yet, I know, that if only it were a counter-depth French-door, I could grow accustomed to its face.)

I must get a plan. A plan. I need a plan………

Mad, Mad Boomer