The only thing that left me cold when my wife and I got a new refrigerator is that it didn’t come stocked with beer.

But the cool part is that it doesn’t freeze food, as our old fridge did. And it is designed in such a convenient way that I can now find what I am looking for — pickles, mustard or, yes, beer — which I could never do before, even when it was staring me in the face.

Sue and I realized we needed a new fridge when we discovered ice chunks in the milk. Also, the water in a plastic bottle was frozen solid. If there was something in the back of the refrigerator, especially on the top shelf, it likely looked like it had spent a year in a meat locker, even if it wasn’t meat.

The real problem was that the fridge was only seven years old. And it didn’t have a warranty, which was, of course, chilling.

So we called a technician named Nadir, who checked the thermostat and said, “It’s 26 degrees. The temperature should be 34.”

“The thermostat was replaced four years ago, when the refrigerator was three years old,” Sue said.

“And,” I added unhelpfully, “we had to pay cold cash.”

Nadir figured out that fixing the problem, which would involve replacing the thermostat and the compressor, wouldn’t be worth the expense.

“You should just buy a new refrigerator,” he said.

“Would it help me find things in there?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Nadir. “My wife complains that I can’t find anything in our refrigerator. I guess it’s a guy thing.”

“It sure is,” said Sue. “Jerry can’t even find the pickles.”

“That’s why I’m always in a pickle,” I acknowledged. “At least I can find the beer.”

What I had to find next was a new fridge. So Sue and I went to an appliance store and met a super salesman named Tevin Quirk.

“We must be related,” I told him. “I have a lot of quirks.”

In a moving display of devotion, Sue did not disagree. She also said that because of an overhead cabinet, the fridge couldn’t be taller than 66 inches.

“And I want handles on the doors,” she said.

“If we can’t open them, we’ll starve to death,” I noted.

“The refrigerator has to be stainless steel,” said Sue, who gave me credit for the brilliant deduction that it would match our stainless steel sink and dishwasher.

“Can you find anything in your refrigerator?” I asked Tevin.

“No,” he confessed. “My girlfriend is always on me about it.”

“How about beer?” I wondered.

“I can definitely find that,” he said.

Tevin scheduled the new fridge, along with the air conditioner and mattress he also sold to us, to be delivered a few days later.

That’s when Giorgi and Zura drove up in a truck containing the brand-new appliance, the sight of which shocked me because it looked green.

“It’s stainless steel,” Sue said.

“It’s green,” I insisted.

“That’s the plastic covering,” Sue said with a sigh. “When it’s peeled off, you’ll see that the refrigerator is stainless steel.”

But something else was wrong.

“I thought this refrigerator came with beer in it,” I said.

“It’ll be delivered later,” Giorgi deadpanned.

“Can you guys find anything in your refrigerators?” I asked. “My wife says I can’t.”

“Neither one of us is married,” Zura said.

“When we are, I guess we’ll find out,” Giorgi added.

After they left, Sue stocked the new fridge. The shelves are neatly arranged with fresh food and liquids such as milk and juice, as well as leftovers. Condiments are on the side of the door.

“It’s a different setup, so you can find things more easily,” she told me. “And now they’re not frozen.”

I celebrated with a beer, which I found right away.

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