If you’re like us, you keep perishables until they pose a health hazard. And somewhere on your bacteria farm you have a huge freezer. Ours is in the basement. Until just a few days ago it was loaded with birthday cakes that were older than two of our children. There was meat in there that had fossilized. The rest had been buried under the growing layers of frost as the shelves thickened with the ice of neglect, rendering the appliance useless. We reached a critical point: in order for us to be able to keep new food items until they become inedible, we were forced to defrost this hoarding cabinet of frozen treats.
You’re supposed to defrost every so often. I don’t know how often. For us, often meant once. But we would have done it more than once if I had known how easy it was. So maybe this post will give you the encouragement you need if you’re dreading this chore. Which you shouldn’t be. Because it can be done in one easy step:
Just leave the damn door open.
Really that’s it. You might want to throw a towel or something at the bottom of the door to catch the first few drops of water, but then go immediately upstairs. Without looking back. Because there’s nothing left to do but let the magic of melting happen.
Sure you could have spent some time upfront, clearing things out of the way all around the freezer and preparing for the moving glacier race across the basement floor. But that is not how shit gets done, my friend. No ma’am. You want results? Throw that door wide. Scream at the ice-laden shelves. Shave some of that ice off the shelf to make a dang margarita and pull up a chair and mock your adversary. Remind your freezer who owns who.
To pass the time, tell yourself that it’s a global warming reenactment. That would be fun. Maybe get some little plastic toy polar bears to sit on the ice as it melts. Melts all over the goddamn floor.
Did you empty the freezer first? Putting all the inedible food in a cooler or something before beginning the defrosting process? Well, look at you, Captain Overachiever. Bet you even went to college. Bet you think you’re better than me.
As the puddle spreads, you might want to throw another towel or two on it. Not the nice towels. Use the ones that have started to fray and tear as you dry your back. You have plenty of those.
How’s that margarita?
At some point, huge chunks of ice will break off the ice shelf. They’ll crash to the floor and shatter, making a crashing noise. That is the sound of opportunity. Remember that half-eaten chicken that you had to throw out because it was half-eaten and very very old? Well, once this defrosting process is over, you will be able to seize more storage opportunities and those half-eaten chickens won’t be able to fly away on half-eaten wings.
Every drip, every fallen chunk, is a step toward freedom.
When all of the ice is gone, just close the door.
Your electric bill hates you.