In the early years of our marriage, our rented apartments and houses came with refrigerators already there. Even the first house that we bought came with a fridge. Avocado green. As opposed to copper tone or harvest gold, you now. Eventually we bought a house where we had to buy a refrigerator and I was surprised at how much more they cost than a washer or a dryer, appliances we already had purchased.
At some point, when I had three thirsty kids living at home, I had to have a model that had ice and water on the door front, so we got a side-by-side. And quickly realized that the convenience of the ice and water didn't quite make up for the narrow shelves on the fridge side and inconvenient baskets on the freezer side. But we lived with it. And still do, even though the support for one of the veggie bins has broken in one place, making the bin slide off track with the slightest mishandling.
A few years ago I discovered the then-new french-door style with a nice freezer bin below. I loved it. So about a year and a half ago, I designated my ING savings account as the french-door fridge fund.
Last night we went shopping. We looked over several varieties and ended up with a french-door model in sleek black (matching our dishwasher front and countertop stove) with ice and water on the left side. It has movable shelves, space on the door that holds a gallon jug, three or four pull-out drawers, and a nice bottom freezer with two separate compartments, one just right for holding boxes of pizza kits. It is gorgeous. And it is coming on Tuesday.
From time to time I think about how technology has changed in the fifty years since my dad died. He'd be fascinated with cassette tape recorders, with VCRs, with cell phones. And I just know that were he around and able to come here for Christmas, the first thing he'd say would be, "Wow. What an ice box!"
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