The Fridge of the Future vs. ADHD Object Permanence Disorder

Combating Outta Sight, Outta Mind Syndrome

Indy, my spoiled Balinese princess, requires a handful of chopped-up, boiled chicken breast twice a day. This is she. Regal. Commanding. A Rocco Schiavone Level-10 pain in my ass. (But I love her.)

Recently I opened my fridge and had to jump back as this horrific stench farted out at me. I once smelled a dead mouse in my aunt’s farmhouse wall and this brought back those memories. Hazmat suited up, I went in to discover the culprit: in the far, nether regions at the back of my fridge I found an entire bag of chopped-up, boiled chicken I’d completely forgotten about. It had to be a month old. It went from zero odor to eau de bio-weapon in no time.

I don’t have to tell you, it is not cheap to feed a cat boiled chicken breasts. Especially now. How could I possibly have been so irresponsible? How did I forget this key ingredient in my fridge when I put it down for her twice a day (and some days, three times when she’s being a Level 11 pain in my ass)?

I’ll tell you how.

It’s this awful plague we ADHDers share called object permanence disorder. Or object blindness. Outta sight, outta mind. I marvel at my own ability to completely forget about anything beyond my sight line. I’ll wager if someone did a study of who forgets their take-home leftover meals at restaurants, the majority would be ADHDers. I do this ALL.THE.TIME. Waiters will chase after me in the parking lot with my little tinfoil swan packages. It’s embarrassing.

My object permanence disorder is also expensive. I keep forgetting I paid $100 for that Masterclass series with all of the great writing courses by Margaret Atwood and humorist David Sedaris. And then there’s the dozens of AppSumo apps I’ll never use. But the most in-my-face (and nose) version of my object permanence disorder is underscored by the various science experiments being conducted in my fridge at this moment. It’s like a body farm for varying stages of decomposing food . . . Schrödinger’s fridge.

But this is not on me. No, siree! It’s the way fridges are imperfectly designed.

And I aim to fix that.

These are some of my design specifications for the ADHDer’s perfect fridge (which I predict will eliminate food waste for the rest of humanity):

• Sleek, stainless steel with lots of glass.

• Everything at eye level.

• A depth of no more than one foot so that foods are never hidden from my view.

• Glass doors so I can always see what’s in there. Having a short-term memory like Dorie from Finding Nemo is so maddening, you cannot imagine.

• More space for more bottles of condiments. I like variety. My perfect fridge should allow for: five mayos: Dukes, Hellman’s, Kraft (yuck, but Dave insists), Miracle Whip, and Sriracha; four mustards: regular, honey mustard, champagne mustard when I can find it, and grey poupon (yuck) for my son; seafood condiments: cocktail sauce, tartar sauce, horseradish sauce, and hot and regular Yum-Yum Sauce; pickled foods: Claussen dill pickles, Wickles (hot, sweet pickles), Famous Dave’s hot, sweet pickles, sweet pickle relish (yuck), dill pickle relish, pickled beets, kimchi, sauerkraut, green olives, giant martini olives stuffed with bleu cheese or garlic or jalapeno, and black olives. And then there needs to be space for the various salsas — green and red — and a dozen flavors of salad dressing (he who has the most salad dressings wins!).

• Expanded space for a wider variety of cheeses.

• Expanded space for a variety of berries and fruits.

• Doors that would either slide sideways like a barn door, or flip up like a Delorean car.

Based on my requirements, A.I. helped me create the image below, but this is a much smaller version. The perfect ADHD fridge in my little theater of the mind would take up the entire expanse of my upper kitchen cabinets on a leviathan-lengthened wall. It would be similar to what you’d experience when you shop the freezer section of Costco, but with every item only at eye level.

In my research, I discovered there was an appliance designer back in the 1950s who had a similar idea. I think we would have been great friends. Here is his or her design:

A friend of mine once shared with me this 60 Minutes episode spotlighting a California design firm called IDEO. I realized that brainstorming better product designs would be the perfect role for me (aside from me having zero understanding of engineering — electrical, mechanical, or otherwise). IDEO has a unique approach — they bring in a diverse group of people ranging from ballerinas to musicians to problem-solve new product designs. This particular 60 Minutes episode showed IDEO designing a better shopping cart with balls for wheels to prevent the cart from getting stuck — genius! I hope one day they recognize that what they truly need is an ADHDer — (MOI!) — to simplify their new-product designs.

Until they call, I’ll be on standby, still ignorin’ my Master Class subscription and hitting up my nearest ALDI —all of that martini olives talk has me jonesin’.