We spent the month after our after our refrigerator entered Valhalla eating canned goods and Saltines. When they delivered the new refrigerator at last, Ken and Benji helped us shuffle it into the apartment. It looked like the fridge IKEA would sell you: a white, enamelled box with no curves or decoration.
Hilary and I dashed out to the supermarket. We placed Ken in charge of the fridge. When we left, its unrelieved cleanliness made it look like a vector model with the textures turned off. By the time we got back forty minutes later, Benji had written, “Phear My Elite Skillz” across the front of it in indelible marker. We found them trying to scrub it off with methylated spirits.