A funny thing happened at our house yesterday. Well, not so funny but not altogether catastrophic, either. Our dishwasher died. Yes, our three-year-old, hardly ever used dishwasher gave up the ghost. Prematurely, I think.
Of course, the darling appliance waited until after it was fully loaded to croak. So, I spent the morning washing dishes. Then, I went to the appliance store and checked the prices on new dishwashers. Then, when I regained my equilibrium and recovered from the sticker shock syndrome, I went to the grocery store and picked up enough paper to last a while.
I've got to admit, I can be stubborn. I don't want to plunk down a chunk of cash for a new appliance. I don't want to eat off paper plates for long, but I'm not keen on washing dishes, either. I also don't love the idea of a repairman in my kitchen.
So what's a woman to do, given the circumstances?
I called the manufacturer, asked to speak with a repair technician and, thanks to a kind man named Jim, learned enough about the machine to consider doing the repair myself. I ordered a service manual and the three parts that are most likely at the root of my dishwasher's demise.
The parts arrive Monday morning. I'll let you know how the saga ends. Who knows? I may have a second career in plumbing!
Wishing everyone a happy holiday weekend!