first person

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Gathering ingredients and condiments for my favourite high-stack sandwich takes some selection time. Certainly, more than the 10 seconds my new fridge allows me to quietly browse. After those 10 seconds, a series of ear-piercing bings begins – an alarm suggesting perhaps that it perceives a drooling beast nosing in for delectable treasures on its bounteous shelves. I’m told that the binger is actually there to remind forgetful humans to close its double doors, this model having lost the ability to close them itself. My suspicion is that the alarm, which cannot be deprogrammed (I’ve tried), was designed by a spouses committee with the sole int

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