Oh! Mini fridge in my room,
you hum so loud and occasionally boom.
You wake me up, it scares me so;
or, I forget you’re there and stub my toe.
Yet, you are the one to protect the milk;
storing, preserving – of the ice box ilk.
So you stay sputtering, and taking up space,
and leaking on occasion, to mark your place.
“At least it’s better than going downstairs,
at 3am,” I am told, by He Who Dares,
after being led to believe I am the decider
of all things domestic, and he, the provider.
So there you stay, convenient and ugly,
squat, and dented, and chilling smugly.
Oh, mini fridge in my room,
one day soon you will lose your bloom.
(OK, I mean, it is convenient. I pump in the middle of the night, every night. And I guess it’s nice that I don’t have to go down to the main fridge. I’ve also started to keep sodas in it for when I’m working and don’t want to run downstairs. And it does have a very small footprint. Maybe if I sit my coffee pot on top of the mini fridge I won’t ever have to leave my room! So, alright, I guess it’s cool. Haha. Get it? Cool? Mini fridge pun! High-five!)