When we decided to buy a new refrigerator, it wasn’t because of the cracked plastic egg holders. It wasn’t the black spores that resisted the most toxic cleaning compounds. It wasn’t the water that collected under the vegetable bins and had to be mopped up. It wasn’t even the broken shelf propped up with a lime-green piece of Tinker Toy. It was the noise.

Our refrigerator made more noise than our dishwasher, sporadically emitting high-pitched squeals that could be silenced only through vigorous pounding on the back of the freezer with whatever was at hand. I’d found that a can of frozen orange-juice concentrate worked well. My daughter swore by frozen peas.

So we set out en famille to buy a new fridge. Notwithstanding the combined fridge-owning years associated with 13 years of marriage, three kids, two houses and seven apartments, this was our first time buying a new fridge.

Sears has alleys of fridges. “I like this one,” says our 11-year-old, admiring a stainless-steel fridge. “I’m thinking it would be good to get an ice maker,” my husband adds. “When can we go to the toy department?” the 4-year-old chimes in. “When’s lunch?” asks the 8-year-old. “Do you have any fridges with a flat surface,” I ask the salesman, rubbing my fingers over a textured surface. Every fridge has a white-on-white texturing of tiny bumps to hide dirt. “Unless you go with stainless steel,” he answers, “you’re married to the texturing. It’s better for cleaning, too.”

Easy cleaning is important for many fridge buyers, but not me. That doesn’t stop the salesman from showing me how easy to care for this fridge will be as he removes and adjusts shelves. The new generation of fridges is impressive: champagne-bottle holders; separate drawers for fish, meat, fruit, cheese and veggies. We’d be able to change the interior of our fridge easily.

My husband, the informed consumer, starts asking questions about cubic feet, energy efficiency, fridge vs. freezer ratio, different types of plastics. In his brain are x and y axes, and he will use different colors for each fridge to plot price, design, craftsmanship, warranties and delivery options. He’ll phone many stores and write down pertinent facts. He’ll talk about fridges at parties and find other people who like to talk about fridges, too.

I, however, am more reserved. The champagne-bottle holder is cool, but all I ask is that the fridge be frost-free and not have a textured exterior. I’m not awed by gadgets. It’s no wonder when my mind starts to wander, and the voices of my husband and the salesman fade behind the plaintive sounds of hungry, bored children.

At home, the measuring tape comes out, and we visualize the new fridge in its new home. The truth hurts. No fridge we looked at will fit in the incumbent’s spot. The modern fridge is too deep. We won’t be able to open our back door with a new fridge. The informed consumer and I exchange dark looks. The kids, ever on the lookout for such vulnerable moments, pipe in: “Can we watch TV?” “Yes,” we reply.

We look around the kitchen: 8 ft. by 10 ft. with one window, four doors and cabinets from the 1940s, cracked linoleum floor and cracked plaster walls. Although a kitchen renovation has been in the long-term plan, in the short-term we just wanted a fridge. The fridge starts to squeal. My husband opens the freezer and pounds the back panel with the frozen corn. “Maybe,” he says, punctuating each word with a well-placed blow, “we should think about redoing the kitchen now rather than later.”

I look around the kitchen. The floor gives way to tile, the cabinets are transformed from ugly dirty white to blond maple with cherry trim, and the cluttered countertops are replaced by a clear expanse of polished granite. I raise the stakes: “Any chance of getting it done before Christmas?”

Although the stakes were daunting, we did manage to get a new kitchen for Easter, a room with new Italian porcelain tile, maple cabinets, cherry trim and stainless-steel sink—and one old refrigerator.

Maybe it was the jolt of being moved. Maybe it was new-fixture envy. Once it became part of our new kitchen, the fridge stopped making its horrible sound. We still have to mop underneath the vegetable bins, and we still ignore the black mold. But with a new kitchen, it’s easy to forgive the fridge its frailties and smile as we adjust the plastic Tinker Toy shelf prop.

—Amélie Crosson, Ottawa, ON, Canada

Drawing by: Jim Meehan

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