My Refrigerator is Called Satanica

I bought a refrigerator today. I paid a lot of money for it. Much more than I think refrigerators are worth. This one looks just like new, except for a huge, triangular gash low on its left side. The damage has pierced the metal, exposing the dim mustard yellow of the solid insulation.

But I don't mind. My expensive refrigerator was much cheaper than it would have been in a retail store. I bought mine in a "damaged ampliances" outlet store, a Sears outlet. So I have a warranty. My little office kitchen will be just the place for the refrigerator. I will have to have a name for the refrigerator. (I always name my corporate physical assets.) She shall be called Santanica.

My lateral file cabinet is Horace. Horace was treated to a new set of keys today, so he locks and unlocks easily and is very happy now. My desk is Hermione. Hermione is a huge solid hardwood piece whose surface is two-toned, with a lightly colored top and darker, harder perimter. She is big-boned and strong. She is the epitome of hardwood beauty, to me.

My chair, before he died, was Granger. His temporary replacement, a chair discarded by someone I work with, is called Lechuga; the woman who discarded it is Hispanic and she enjoys leafy vegetables.

Granger's death was hard. He was not quite nine years old. He could have had a long, leathery life if I hadn't mistreated him along the way.

I won't tell you all the names of all the assets in my office, at least not tonight. But later, if you'll bear with me, I'll tell you things you don't necessarily want to know. But you must know them, if you are to know my story.

I'm Springer Kneeblood. I'm glad you stopped by to see what I have to share with you today.