The freeze is usually announced with little to no warning.
It can be called by either one of us as quickly as, “Hey do you want to play hide and seek?” and like that! We’re frozen.
The only way one can be unfrozen is if compression socks go on sale or they come up with a better pina colada maker or flashier t.v. remote.
It’s really just to keep us both in check. If we feel the other is over-spending frivolously on items we simply don’t need, or the other has no interest in, OR if one of us has to be tutored by the other on how something works and we resent said person for thinking we don’t know the difference between a lithium battery and an oblong one, we call the freeze so there will be at least some surprises Christmas morning.
While we aren’t “technically” in a freeze right now, I cautioned Greg while out shopping that if he bought one more dry-fit golf shirt, we would need to host a neighbourhood bonfire to successfully dispose of the pile of golf shirt kindling, overpowering every closet in the house.
He agreed, while “technically” not on a freeze, he entered the mall with the threat of a freeze lingering over him in the form of my icy cold whisper. “No more dry-fit golf shirts. Not now. Not ever.”
Then he walked out of the mall with this.