Damn. You swung a mighty blow there with the fridge analogy. So rich and profound I almost wanted it to hit me full in the jaw, hoping something would stick. What's the worst that could happen? I've been hit with worse than fridges and here I proudly stand; 35% of my cognitive capacities fully functioning (the other 80% only served to get percentages right; which is not a pressing issue so everything's fine).

Now, I'm not a fridge—not that I have anything against that community; I just wasn't born that way. I come from a nightstand heritage—but if I were, I'd be almost empty inside. In the best sense of the metaphor: I love being tucked in by empty space, tall ceilings, walls so far away I could accommodate an endangered pack of wolves inside, spending the whole working day without hearing them howl.

That means my fridge would have limited snacking capabilities. But hey, less chewing means more talking, which is at the end my kind of gourmet cuisine: charm crowds with finely flavored rhetoric.

But anyway. I heard the bulbs of our insides light up only when someone else opens us from the outside. Hell, we may need each other after all.