Working with my hands

 

When we remodeled the house and added a second story, back in the last century, we went with what we thought fit the house and the new needs of our growing family. Sadly our renovation budget was running too low to put in granite or my preference, soapstone, counters, and so we defaulted to non-offensive subway tile.

However we didn't skimp on the dishwasher, a Bauhaus-inspired performance machine, some say the Porsche of dishwashers, that has given us close to 25 years of good service.

That is until last week, because you know my life hasn't had enough obstacles thrown in front it like an angry CHP Spike Strip.

It seems the water was not completely draining and the loads could not be finished. Fixing the damn thing would probably cost me more than a brand new dishwasher, but I balked. 

Regular readers might remember a series of posts I wrote under the theme: Things Jews Don't Do. 

Admittedly well-worn ground overfarmed by many an aspiring stand up comedian. Added to that long list that includes Dirt Bike Racing, Lighting Installation, Horse Training, and the like, you'll find Dishwasher Repair, particularly the complicated German ones and their over engineered traps.

In the normal course of life my wife would have called an appliance repairman before I had a chance to see what tools I had in the garage. But things have changed around here. And I decided to take it upon myself to figure out why there was puddle of water in the bottom of the dishwasher.

And so with spare time on my hand and a need for distraction, I went to the Youtube and started watching videos. It took a little digging until I found the video addressing the same issue and the same model dishwasher from 25 years ago.

And after removing the disgusting filter and cleaning it off, I ventured to the next step and removed the spray nozzle and then the screening device, only to reveal a larger pool of undrained water.

I shopvacked the water as well as the remaining corn kernels, kale strands and lamb chop gristle and spotted the magic return valve.

I popped the valve out rather easily and detected the gravity-dependent ball bearing that directs the flow of the exiting water. Sure enough, just as my YouTube assistant had suspected, there were three large lemon seeds obstructing the drop of the ball bearing and sending the water back where it came from.

I whipped out my handy dandy all purpose Leatherman and surgically removed each of the offending squatter seeds. 

Then I recalibrated the hydrosonic flicks flacks and re-attached the aqua-confibulators.

I put the Miele back together in a jiffy and excitedly half filled the dishwasher with some dirty utensils and plates, eagerly awaiting the results of my handiwork.

An hour later I opened the machine which had completed its cycle and the bottom of the dishwasher was, to coin a term from a car mechanic who was inspecting the Master Cylinder on my Plymouth, "Bone Fucking Dry".

Was a I proud? Damn right I was proud. Think I'll use the money I saved to get me a new toy, like an Oculus. Or a new sports coat.