This is what I stopped to pick up from my sister’s on the way home from Atlanta last weekend:
A new (to me) dishwasher! I was hoping to have it installed by now, but with the shorter days Nick and I just haven’t been able to muster the energy to tackle an appliance install after work this week. Maybe this weekend it’ll make the grand transition from the front room to the kitchen.
Why, might you ask, did I get a dishwasher from my sister’s house? Well, she just bought her first place this summer, and even though all the appliances were less than two years old she wanted a fancier dishwasher. I, on the other hand, married the kind of man who would never dream of replacing an appliance that still worked. Even though my dishwasher is on its last leg Nick insisted we keep using it. This made me a little nervous that one day it would just go kaput on a day when I urgently needed it, or that maybe it would go out in a blaze of glory, spewing soapy water all over the floor, or, even worse, it might literally set itself ablaze (if predisposition to house fires were a genetic condition I would say that they run in my family). So when Shannon called and asked if I wanted to take her not-quite-brand-new dishwasher off her hands for a mere fifty bucks, I went for it. Can you believe that my husband still grumbled? “We don’t need a new dishwasher…” says the man who will ignore a plethora of problems if it saves him a buck.
So as soon as I can empty the old dishwasher of its’ last ever not-up-to-my-standards load of clean dishes and talk Nick into hauling it from the front room to the kitchen, we’ll be trying our hand at connecting wiring and water supplies. Shannon’s über-handy boyfriend explained it all to me when I picked it up, but I’m still a little bit nervous. YouTube instructional videos, here I come.