Tuesday, August 14, 2012

The Dishwasher hates me or Returning home.

The dishwasher and I have been at odds for a very long time.  I think I should not take it personally but then maybe I should pay more attention.

We have been in this house for 18 years.  In that time there have been 4 dishwashers that have lived with us.  The first one had a beige outer skin.  It was functional. Push buttons, no real bells and whistles.  It was asked to leave by the first of three white dishwashers.  Let's face it, I am not a brown of any shade, kind of girl.

The first one had not been in the house more than a week and someone tipped over a chair and dented the front of the dishwasher.  It worked fine until 2004 after cancer came the first time.

I had no complaints but then it decided one day to catch on fire.  Not a big fire but a enough smoke that we called the fire department and some really cute guys came.  They looked at it and agreed there had been black and gray smoke coming out of the vent. I was told that no kind of smoke should ever come out of such a device.  It was their suggestion that the dishwasher be escorted out, sooner rather than later.

The second white dishwasher was "professionally installed."  That is where a guy comes and you pay them $150.00 because you are sure having your ex-huband install the last one might have been the problem.  The guy looks at the set up and ponders why it is "wired" the way it was wired.  He must then be told the story of the kitchen lights taped together with scotch tape.  He then understands.

Several years go by (5).  Meb is cured, college happens, Mom and I go to Spokane to pick up Mary-Elizabeth, the dishwasher dies.  Again, while I am gone.  It just gives up the ghost.  We have always said that Koo killed it but he denies all culpability.

Mom and I go to Sears to the outlet area.  Since my last dishwasher was installed, the world has become stainless steel.  No slightly dented, or slightly unloved dishwashers for us.  Upstairs to the real dishwashers.  Holy Cow, when did dishwashers become a million dollars.

Delivery arranged, 900 years from now.  Installation guys come with the item. 

They deliver on Sunday.  Who knew?  Guys come, take away the dead dishwasher to be recycled (for a fee).  Opps, it won't fit into the spot because the water dohicky in the back is not in the same place and it has to be moved by the plumber and then the electrician should be called to really wire it in and not just plug it in, and the cabinet guy should come to rework the cabinet so it will fit, since it is 1/8th too wide.

I convince the guy to hook it up, plug it in, put it back as far as it will go and then I just give up. Hey, I think I have a lot on my plate. 

Cancer comes back.  

 The house gets really really mad. No one is here, everyone is spending time with Mary-Elizabeth at some place called the hospital and like a spoiled brat, it has a tantrum.   It wants some attention so it gets a new bathroom and while the plumber is here more than one time somehow Heidi Behrens Benedict brings all the pieces together.

It works, it is finally  installed completly, the plumber even moves the cut off valvue so it is not BEHIND THE DISHWASHER.   Ya think? Life is good.

Sally goes away for the first time in many many moons.  She goes and sleeps and walks on the beach. She helps celebrate her mother's 80th birthday.  Then the call comes.

"Mom can I use dishes that are not run through the dishwasher?"

Call repair guy, have him fix it, have him order the weird partthat helps the upper rack stay up, it seems weird. 

Sally goes to her 40th class reunion.  DISH WASHER LITTLE DOOHICKY BREAKS SO ONLY ONE RACK CAN BE USED.  (Did I mention the fridge had to be replaced in May?)

Really, Really, Really. 

So everyone lets get things straight, perhaps I have not been clear.  I need some things to go right.  I need to have a break here.  No more trips to the hospital.  No more broken house stuff. No more root canals. No more. 

Just say NO.....

Okay.  I promise not to leave ever again, and if I do, I might not be coming home.


No comments: