A Cautionary Tale
My hubby and I made a decision (okay I strongly suggested this) to purchase a new dishwasher. Before the old one gave out and likely would flood the kitchen and hallway.
After all, the old one was going on 19 years old. It really had never given us a headache or a problem in all that time. However, the past few months I noticed dishes were not getting as clean and glassware often had spots and a film despite the use of preventive aids which had kept this from happening over all these 19 years.
So hubby measured and carefully wrote down the measurements. It certainly wouldn’t do to find the perfect dishwasher only to have it arrive and be too big or too small for the available space. He hit Consumer Reports and did his research. He brought home the results and consulted me.
Of course, he showed me only those which met his specifications: high rankings in areas he deemed necessary and size.
Then I took those model numbers and looked them up on line. After all, I was the determiner of whether it would really “fit” in the kitchen, meaning did it complement what we already have. Or was it totally unacceptable despite its high ratings.
Wonder of wonders—my top choice was the same as his. (Now this is a rare occurrence. I’m for sleek, modern and stainless, black or titanium and black. He has a fondness for roosters and harvest gold and olive green. I’ll say no more.)
So off we went to the appliance store. And even a great wonder? It was on a very good sale. We bought it, arranged for delivery, installation and most importantly, HAUL AWAY.
We were told the only responsibility we had before the new appliance arrived was to turn off the water to the dishwasher.
Now the day before the delivery we get the confirmation call and my husband asks about the installation since that wasn’t mentioned. Well, that gets him the opportunity to speak to a real human.
You know where this is going, don’t you?
Yep. No notice of any installation we should call the store and reset a delivery date.
Well, we did, but delivery, installation and haul away couldn’t be done until the following week. We agreed. I mean, what else were we going to do? I certainly wasn’t going to try to install it and fortunately my dear hubby decided he’d not step up a show his macho.
Thank God for small favors.
So we’re back to just turning off the water.
The new delivery date was scheduled for this past Friday. About Tuesday hubby says to me, “There’s no water turn off under the sink.”
“Of course there is,” I answered but I was busy desperately trying to finish the final edits for this next book and didn’t immediately get up and show him where it was the last time I cleaned under the kitchen sink.
My mistake. Hubby’s also.
When I asked about it later, he said the problem was solved. So you know what I thought, right?
Well, Friday arrived. I’m in a very celebratory mood—the dishwasher is arriving and being installed and while that’s happening I will be out to lunch with two writer friends I don’t get to see often. Best of all, when I get home, the whole dishwasher process should be finished.
Lunch was fantastic.
When I got home, I saw the old dishwasher outside the garage and the installer’s van. I walked in the house to see my new dishwasher in place, the installer on the floor finishing up. But I sensed something was wrong.
Then hubby came into the hallway. I smiled at him and noticed his color, his breathing. “Things look like they are going well?”
“No. I had a terrible day…” and I heard about the flood in the lower level where our disabled son has his rooms and all his supplies and equipment is stored. In turning off the water, my hubby had tried to turn it off at the main valve instead of under the kitchen sink. The valve broke off and there was no way to turn off all the water rushing in.
At that same moment the doorbell rings, the dishwasher delivery men and installer had arrived. Fortunately, Steven’s nurse on duty was able to quickly reach the water department who had a crew finishing up another project just a few houses away. They were here in minutes and quickly found the main turn off outside which only they could turn off. They did and then hubby reattached the valve.
Meanwhile, the delivery men took out the old dishwasher, brought the new one in, and left. The installer began his work.
Hubby made a phone call to a water extraction service. Then he changed his clothes which were soaked right down to his shoes. (They are probably ruined.) That’s when I arrived home to hear this tale of woe. The water extraction people were right behind me. They arrived and used these enormous vacuums to get up the several inches of water.
But this weekend we are drying out. Industrial sized humidifiers and fans are doing their thing. Very loudly. Steven’s supplies are mostly because the water didn’t reach the shelves. The equipment has dried without issue.
And I write this while I do a shift with my son and listen to the fans and humidifier do their jobs. Sometimes noisy equipment is a very good thing.
Oh, and the moral of this story? Let your hubby clean under the kitchen sink regularly to become familiar with the water turn off thingamajig.
Any cautionary tales of your own to share?
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