I won’t lie; I miss giant, North American-sized appliances. After two years in China I am sick of small things. The microscopic dogs, tiny sandwiches, and itty-bitty apartments, can drive you to the brink of insanity. Add to this less-than-adequately-sized appliances and you start to feel like a big laowai in a very little pond.
When I lived alone I had few problems. My fridge was my own. It held beer, cold cuts, cheese and the condiments needed to consume the previously listed items. The dastardly icebox stands five-feet high and is 24 inches wide. This would seem ample room, until you add a wife to the equation.My refrigerator now holds items I cannot name in English or Chinese. There are condiments so spicy that even looking at the bottles requires protective eyewear. Trying to jam these items and my stock of foreigner basics into one, cooled box can present problems.
At the local appliance superstore I saw a gleaming, stainless steel fridge. It was broad and sturdy. It had an ice maker in the door and was the diameter of an ancient redwood. I nearly wept when my gaze fell accidentally on the marvel of engineering. Who knew there was such a beast in China? It was almost worth the three months salary. It could replace the television, I told myself, it was far more interesting.
Luckily, the women that packs my formerly bachelor refrigerator with questionable Chinese delicacies was on-hand and dragged my away before my wallet rose above the horizon of my pocket.
I could embark upon building my own fridge, a bit of DIY in China. My expertise only extends to 2x4s, hammers and nails, not condensers, coils, and stainless steel. I don’t think any fridge I constructed would be attractive or functional.
Married life, sharing essentially, something I failed in kindergarten, is not easy. If I could base a fridge buying argument on that truth perhaps I could justify the purchase?
Perhaps not. The fridge is too large to fit in my kitchen. There’s only room in the bedroom and I think someone would draw the line at that.