In the last week, I have had difficulties with two appliances. My dishwasher was not emptying properly and the timer knob on my washing machine started to free float without engaging.
I put vinegar and vinegar and vinegar and vinegar into my dishwasher and used a stick to claw out particles between the parallel vents of the pump cover. By the time that the repairman arrived, there was only a little standing water around the pump drain.
Off season at a bed and breakfast is not a time of wine and roses. I don’t drink wine so for me it would just be roses. I was tempted to engage with financial worry.
I handed over my visa and swiped away $85 for the information that my dishwasher was working fine. All of the vinegar I had put in had cleared the chemical build up. I learned for my $85 that there should be a bit of standing water.
The scenario when the repair man arrived called out to be written as a sketch for stage. The ETA was to be at noon. So I plastered my head with deep auburn hair color paste, put on my shorty red bathrobe with the pink polka dots and was waiting for the 30 minutes to pass when I heard the knock on my door.
He was two hours early with no warning phone call.The usual story is of a repair man being two hours late with a phone call. I was highly aware of my nudity under my bathrobe and had big rivulets of red soil paste trickling down my face.
My kitchen is large, open and bright and as I stood facing the unexpected man, I thought about it as a stage. We were center stage. I stood across from him both participating and simultaneously observing. He was missing three teeth in his upper gums and had an eight pm shadow on his face. He stood with his hands on his hips and was short, very dark and stubby.
I dismissed a possible menu of emotions and just stuck to the issue. I want my dishwasher to work. But somewhere inside I was sitting in an audience highly amused at the scenario.
Days later, I had a Korean guest in my airbnb that did something violent to my washing machine and twisted the start knob so inexpertly that the repair man today told me it was ,” definitely failing.” Again, I swiped my visa to pay him to come and tell me the repairs I wanted would run $400 so he recommended I just, “turn it like this.”
He showed me a careful methodology that would start up the machine and do no further damage to the timer. I paid another man another amount for telling me that I needed no repair (right now).
This time at least I was dressed and almost groomed.
I have dismissed the urge to winge about money going out for nothing (except to you.) Sometimes things are just not ready to repair. They have not reached the end of the road.
So I get my neck injected with pain killer, my knees filled, physio on my hand, work on building up my body and the back fire line for any incursions is to just stay loose.
It may be in “failing mode,” but it hasn’t failed yet. The entire issue of safety and control is a moot one. Both the dishwasher and the clothes washer will live on. And I have gotten to meet new people. Change is always happening and sometimes our appliances and our joints remind us of that truth.