Young Cat, Old Fridge

Willem is about three years old. I adopted him in June and I still call him "Boy-O" as often as I use his name. This sweet beast has become very comfortable as the new owner of the entire house, while my other cat Laura Earle (twelve years old) stays only in my tiny apartment. The two never became bosom-pals as I had hoped, and the girl even became depressed and sick for a few weeks, rallying only when her territorial rights were restored.

Behind Willem is my housemate-landlord's 1947-vintage General Electric refrigerator. Some years ago I repainted the side but never got to the front. Its horizontal handle is the postwar design change, improving on the vertical handle on the 1941 model in a friend's basement nearby. This fridge, mind you, just barely functions and uses some crazy amount of power to do whatever it does. Fortunately, I've been gifted a terrific fridge by the next-door neighbors who made themselves an all-new kitchen.

Posters from a nearby theater and a British newspaper add a little culture to these sorry old kitchen walls.