My refrigerator is a kind of vacuum, sucking up energy but doing nothing to give me any in return.

Nature abhors a vacuum, I’ve heard, but as I looked in my refrigerator I sensed that nature wasn’t doing anything about it.

Shouldn’t this be filling up, if the vacuum is so abhorrent?

Instead, the last few grapes from the past several weeks were radically reducing in size. Hence, my vacuum theorizing. There was also a bit of cheese which, in about one more week, should be ready for preschool. And a haircut.

In the egg tray in the door sat a garlic butter container from a Papa John’s pizza from six months ago. The crisper, to my dismay, held an apple that was somewhat like applesauce; the crisper is a liar, since nothing was getting crispy.

I found the carton of milk in the back, which was why I’d cracked the door open in the first place. The milk was a few days off peak, I discovered after a sip, but decided that Ovaltine would cover a multitude of sins.

It did a fair job.