Things fall apart, sometimes all at once, sometimes randomly.The door to our microwave broke. Craig, the cheerful appliance repairman, rigged it up so that it works, but you have to use two hands to open the broken latch. I can’t replace the microwave only, because it is in the same unit as the oven. It would be difficult, and costly, to replace the whole unit, so we make do. I did manage to grow up without a microwave, but at this point it seems like a must-have. I use it a lot…to reheat my coffee.
I call Craig so often that he finally gave me his cell phone number so he’d be easier to track down. He seems to get a kick out of appliances. He understands them, forgiving their finnicky behavior. When he is done fixing something, he says, “She’s good to go. She shouldn’t give you any more trouble.”
More than once, he’s dealt with my stove. The electric ignitors on the burners need to be filed occasionally, and if you don’t get it just right, one or another burner won’t go on and it will click like crazy when the others are lit. I yell at it. I pound the stove. I try my nail file on it. Finally I call Craig. He cleans them up and they’re good to go. Finally it occurred to me to ask him to leave me a piece of his magic sandpaper.
Our kitchen cabinets (yes, I know, these are not appliances) have, over the years, fallen apart one at a time with no provocation. Turns out that when we redid the kitchen 16 years ago, they used a bad batch of glue. The kitchen supply people sent a carpenter to try to figure out which ones to re-glue, without much success. At least when I call to report another broken door, they fix it free of charge.
But back to appliances. The other day my dishwasher broke, and Craig came to fix it. As he was about to leave, I remembered something. Sometimes, odd horseshoe-shaped pieces of thin wire turn up in my washing machine. I’ve been saving them to show him, figuring that they signal my washing machine’s slow deterioration. But also figuring that “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” I have forgotten to ask him about it.
“Oh,” Craig said, with a grin.
Then I thought I heard him say, “Those are brunderwires.”
Huh? Was that some esoteric appliance part?
“Bra underwires,” he said. “I see it all the time. One customer really wrecked her washing machine with them.”
Ohhhhhhhh. What do you know about that?
But back to appliances. The other day my dishwasher broke, and Craig came to fix it. As he was about to leave, I remembered something. Sometimes, odd horseshoe-shaped pieces of thin wire turn up in my washing machine. I’ve been saving them to show him, figuring that they signal my washing machine’s slow deterioration. But also figuring that “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” I have forgotten to ask him about it.
“Oh,” Craig said, with a grin.
Then I thought I heard him say, “Those are brunderwires.”
Huh? Was that some esoteric appliance part?
“Bra underwires,” he said. “I see it all the time. One customer really wrecked her washing machine with them.”
Ohhhhhhhh. What do you know about that?
Sometimes you just have to laugh.
