So...we moved over Memorial Day weekend. And when I say "over Memorial Day weekend" I literally mean over the entire weekend. Moving! It takes so much time! Who knew!
Actually, I did. I've moved around a lot, but this time it's different. We've moved into our own home, the one we hope to be in for a long time. This makes the unpacking process embarrasingly slow because every single decision is of monumental importance ("Does the colander go in this drawer? Or on the shelf? Or should it be out on the counter?") - for some reason, I'm stuck with the belief that the spot where I place things as they come out of the moving boxes will be the spot where the things will lay for the next 30 years.
Of course, that's ridiculous. I know that. But that's how unpacking's going. Thanks for asking.
You know what else is ridiculous? The bone-sucking exhaustion at the end of each and every day. My brain is fried, and I'm not exaggerating.
Want an example?
Our home came with a dishwasher. Like most dishwashers, it's pretty aggresively boring, but it gets the dishes clean so we're happy. Except for last night, where the thing would not start. It was dead. My husband and I looked at each other, not quite sure what to do. As renters, we were used to just letting the landlord deal with it. But now that we're homeowners it's our responsibility. And it was late. And we were tired.
So my husband went downstairs to check the fuse box. Everything seemed to be in order. I pulled the dishwasher out from under the counter to see if it was unplugged, or whatever it is you do with a dishwasher. Everything looked...like nothing I'd ever seen before, so I assumed it was fine.
Still, the thing would not start.
Then we remembered that GE was recalling some dishwashers, so we went online and typed in the serial numbers on our machine, hoping that our machine was on the recall list. We're probably the only people in the world wishing that their dishwasher was one of the ones that are likely to catch on fire so that we could have someone come over and fix it or replace it.
No luck.
Since we were on line, we looked up what a new dishwasher would cost. Did you know that a dishwasher can cost $1600? And that some brands don't even list a price online? That you have to hear the price in person? Probably so the sales person can catch you as you faint and wave some smelling salts under your nose. Because more than 1600 dollars? American dollars? That seems excessive to me, but maybe I've been out of the appliance buying market for too long.
Buying a new dishwasher was out of the question, because we could find so many uses for $1600 (like childproofing...our house offers our toddler many more ways to injure himself than our old apartment ever did) so we came up with a strategy. I would call GE in the morning and tell them that our dishwasher is less than two years old and we expect the company to stand behind their product. I was going to sound indignant and a touch angry. If they refused, we weren't sure what we would do. My husband said to make sure I tell them that I have a blog and threaten them with a nasty post.
I do not like it when he makes fun of my site. I was very mad by the time I woke up this morning.
We were standing around the kitchen counter, I had my coffee in one hand and the phone in another, and my husband was looking for the customer service number when Sebastian ran into the room and got into the cabinets under the kitchen sink. I dropped the phone and went after him, certain that he was hell bent on drinking some dishwashing detergent in lieu of his apple juice.
"See!" I said to my husband. "We have to childproof this kitchen as of yesterday!"
When I opened the cabinet, Sebastian was playing with a switch. He flicked it, and ran out of the room.
My husband and I looked at each other. We then looked at the dishwasher.
He turned it on.
Do I even need to tell you that it worked? That it took a two year-old to fix our dishwasher? That I need to stop unpacking and take a nap?
