Are You Mocking Me

As I mentioned in a previous blog, the wife and I were shopping for a new dishwasher.  We had it delivered last Tuesday.  First things first though, since we opted out of the $109 installation fee (delivery was free) there was the matter of removing the old unit (hauling away of the old unit was also free)…

Now, according to my research, this should have been a simple process.  There are only (3) things to disconnect: the power, the drain and the hot water hose.  Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.  Not so fast though, let’s remember who we are dealing with here (namely me) and nothing (I repeat, nothing) ever goes right when it comes to me and tools.  I was able to get the power cut to the dishwasher (the breaker box had a breaker labeled “dishwasher”).  The drain (which was supposed to be like the drain that came with the new unit) was this big, industrial strength, rubber hose.  The hot water (which was supposed to 1: be like the replacement hose that Lowe’s talked us into and 2: run through the cabinet to 3: the sink) was this copper tube that ran through the wall (like through the studs in the wall).  But, hey, 1 out of 3 ain’t bad.

As you can see from the above picture, I did get everything disconnected without causing any damage (ok, other than the incredibly painful pinching of my left thumb with some pliers when trying to get the hot water disconnected).  At any rate, I was at least prepared for the Lowe’s crew to come and deliver the new dishwasher and haul off the old one.  They arrived at 2 in the afternoon (which was between the promised noon and 5) and I at this point in time my evening was prescheduled for me.

Doesn’t it look nice there, fresh and still in some wrapping?  Full of possibilities, full of future happiness for the wife and family as it delivers clean and sanitized dishes to us?  This is where it pretty much stayed for 2 days while I attempted to make the connections that came with it to match up with the items coming out of the wall.  We washed dishes the old fashioned way (well I usually dried) and it just stayed there, mocking me.  It mocked my manhood.  Every time that I walked into the kitchen, it was there to remind me of how I had fallen short.  I could feel it looking at me, then my toolbox, then back at me as if to say, “Hey buddy, why don’t you give it another try?”  When I was not in the kitchen, my very sore thumb (the one that I pinched in the pliers) was there to rub salt into the wound for good measure.

I plotted plans B and C and then do what I usually do, called my mother and her boyfriend to rescue me.  I did this most recently when installing a chandelier over the dining room table after there were sparks shooting from the ceiling.  They are used to this kind of call from me (sad to say).  They arrived on Thursday and after 2 more trips to Lowe’s the dishwasher was in it’s rightful place…

This is not the end of the story however as there is still a slight leak where the dishwasher drain feeds into that large, black drain hose.  It drips about once per second the entire time the dishwasher is draining so I have a small container behind the unit for now that I empty every 3 or 4 cycles.  I tried tightening the clamp on it tonight (risking another injury with the pliers) and it did slow the leak down, but it did not stop it.  I imagine that it will take another rescue visit from the installers.  It does do a much better job on the dishes and the wife does seem genuinely happy and my thumb is almost healed.  Hopefully soon this will just be a memory.  Even as I type this blog entry though, I can hear a slight drip, mocking me from the kitchen.

Jon