different

We put in the new fridge.
When I was gone?
Everything should be all set.
Good. Thanks.
Let us know if you have any problems. The settings work. You should be okay now. Your freezer works, the bottom part, too.
Okay. Thanks again.
We'll see.
How's it working?
It was working fine. Just fine. Should be okay.
That's good. That's good. Glad to hear. Thanks again.

Hey, how's that fridge?
Oh. My new refrigerator.
Everything okay?
It seems to be all right. I put some water in a plastic container to see if it freezes. I did that for the top and the bottom. The freezer. And the regular, whatever you call that part. The refrigerator.
And?
Does what it's supposed to do. Freezer and nonfreezer. So far, so good.
Figured it would. Perfect.
There's one thing. Not exactly perfect. I almost don't want to mention it. It's . . . 
What's that? The temperature ain't right?
No, no, no.
What?
No, yeah. No, never mind.
C'mon, what?
It's nothing. Nothing really. It's . . . 
Tell me.
The doors.
Oh! That! Yes, we know they're on backwards.
It's not really backwards. I mean, the doors work and everything. They're just different. Now I have to open from the right side.
Give us a few days.
I can adjust. Really.
No problem. We'll fix it.
Well, it's not really broken. It's . . . 
We'll fix it.
You don't have to. I was going to make it a little challenge every day. I keep grabbing for the handle on the left side. I forget. But I'll learn.
Yeah, yeah. We'll fix that next week.
The doors are really perfectly fine. They're just different. Nothing's really wrong. I feel so silly.
We'll fix it. Hits the cabinets, right?
No. Not really.
We're gonna fix it. I'll call you next week.
It's just different.
Have a good day.
You, too.

sleeping on the other side of the bed

The coldness of it, the stiffness. Its newness, unused and absent the human imprint. Mine or anyone else's. For the longest time, a set of pillows on that side, away from the end table and lamp, museum-like, virginal. Pillow props. Faux companions missing their heads, and bodies for that matter. That side of the mattress not virginal. That's a convenient fib, but let's not get into that, not today. It's a good thing I didn't say "almost virginal," because, well, that's not even oxymoronic. It's lexically lazy. I switched to that side because I feared ruination of the year-old bedding. Trapped in the imprint of a nightly journey, bearing the weight of dreams, seasons, and fantasies, my habits having embossed that side of the bed. Nocturnal branding seen from an aerial view, i.e., from the loft's high ceiling, the contour lines of my personal topographical map impossible to hide or erase. I am surprised at how I've adjusted. The light on "the other side," "the far side," is bright enough for me to read in that space, a necessity. It's a shorter trip to the bathroom. I assumed I'd do this other side thing for a night or two. It's caught on. It has a momentum I never expected. Do you insist? Really? You're going to go there? The whole business about flying solo versus partners, paramours, assignations, guests of the demimonde, one-night stands not getting traction of their own into six-month sequestrations, the lonely man in his lonely bedroom. No, it ain't like that. I'm slightly offended you swerved in that direction, you fuck. How long will this last? More concerningly, how would I adjust to a bedmate? Could I have merely flipped or repositioned the mattress? Not without looking like a one-man Marx Brothers sketch. I've heard people say, "You can act yourself into a new way of thinking." Counterintuitive, and all that. I'm hoping that's the case here. That Sleeping on the Other Side of the Bed will translate into my becoming another person, one with another perspective, figuratively and literally. The Sleeping on the Other Side of the Bed Person. Can a left-handed person become right-handed? Not this guy. But can a right side of the mattress person (me, from an aerial view) become a left side of the mattress entity? So far, yes. There are other dynamics at work here, opportunities for growth. They say, "Don't go to bed angry." "Don't let the sun go down on your anger," etc. Add to this: the perils of the Silent Treatment. How does one apply this to someone who is flying solo between the sheets? How does this pertain to a single occupant in a queen-size bed? One thing is sure, no one to blame for "stealing the covers" except moi.What's next, a shower immediately upon waking, before my breakfast rites? Never.