Saturday, August 13, 2016

My Apple Berry Twist/Honeyberry Hula Summer

It was the middle of June when I first noticed the lumps of coagulated Cascade that remained in the little receptacle on the inside of the dishwasher door. Thinking a few moves ahead, resigning myself to the inevitable, I break out the Gain Apple Berry Twist dishwashing liquid and go old school. (JM cooks, MM cleans up. The system works. Don’t f--- with it).

Communicate with the home appliance repair outfit. We’ll be there in two weeks. A responsible adult over the age of 18 needs to be home. Watch for us sometime between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. We’ll send you an email the day before with a narrowed window to mitigate your discontent and allow you some semblance of organization on the day we’re to arrive and effect the repairs to your dishwasher. (Paraphrasing).

Repairman arrives. He’s named Mark. About my age. Friendly, with the social skills that come with time and experience. I retreat to the office and get back to work, sounds of crapped out dishwasher diagnosis emanating from the kitchen. 

Apple Berry Twist Honeyberry Hula.
Mark says you need a new pump. We’ll order one. It’ll arrive here at your home within a week. Let’s find a mutually available day when I can come back and install that bad boy. K. Second week of July.

Back to the Gain Apple Berry Twist.

New pump appears on my doorstep within the week Mark said it would. Installation Day and email arrive, narrowing the between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. window to between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m.

This time it’s Rick, a younger version of Mark (read: social skills still developing). Turns out the pump that appeared on my doorstep is for a washing machine, not a dishwasher. Rick’s pissed and launches into a series of disparaging remarks about his colleagues in the home appliance part distribution chain. 

I think to myself, take a pill, dude. I’m the one who’s gonna be two more weeks elbow-deep in Gain Apple Berry Twist Suds (Proctor & Gamble’s caps).

Once more with the mutually convenient day calendar dance. Mid-August. Few days later, a box leaking oil arrives on my doorstep. I could bust it open and inspect it, but my oil leaking dishwasher pump diagnostic/intervention skills are not fully developed. 

By now, I’ve drained my bottle of Gain Apple Berry Twist and moved on to Gain Honeyberry Hula. Yanno, just to mix things up. (WTF is a honeyberry, I wondered?) Wonder no more.

Mid-August. Email narrowing the between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. window to between 3:15 p.m. and 5:15 p.m. Mark again. Major surgery, this dishwasher pump installation bidness. Mark sutures up the patient and delivers the bad news to the next of kin. Correct pump this time, but now the water line leading to the dishwasher is leaking.

With all the social skill that time and experience has afforded him, Mark delivers a spiel that translates to: Done all we can do. You gotta call a plumber. 

I’ll do that Monday. Too bad, really. Ive sorta grown accustomed to the smell of the Honeyberry.

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