Thursday, January 12, 2006

One of our Appliances is Missing...

In the incredibly fair division of household labour that Husband and I have evolved, he gets to do things like crawling around in the basement fighting with the oil tank and furnace, crawling around on the icy roof pushing off snow buildup, crawling up ladders to paint at terrifying altitudes, collecting stinky garbage and taking it out to the curb weekly, and wielding sharp blades and other dangerous machinery in the back yard while being eaten by insects, while I get to do things like wash dishes. Clearly something had to be done to alleviate the burden of This Old House, and that something was to get a new dishwasher.

(The old electric dishwasher here at Casa Ronniecat was installed by Ward to make sure June didn't break a sweat while keeping house in her pumps and pearls, and hasn't been actually usable for a few years now. I was in mortal danger of getting Dishpan Hands.)

So when Husband spotted a fantastic deal on a new GE Dishwasher at a local retailer, off we went to poke, prod, click, slide, and thump, and finally sign on the dotted line for our new model.

O happy day! Husband then lined up the proverbial "guy wid' a truck" who was going to pick it up from the store today, bring it to our house, disconnect the old dishwasher, connect the new dishwasher, and haul away the old one, all for an embarrassingly modest fee. (Guys wid' trucks. Half the success in being a homeowner is having connections to the right "guys wid' trucks". They're worth their weight in gold.)

There's just one teensy, eensy, weensy fly in the ointment. They lost our dishwasher.

The store, I mean, not the guy wid' the truck. There was nothing for the guy wid' the truck to pick up. It's gone. The whole kit and kaboodle, apparently. One of our Appliances is Missing. Gone. Don't know where it went. Don't know why. Can't find the kid who sold it to us.

I have a weird image in my head of the lanky, scrawny kid who sold us the unit in an AMC Gremlin with our dishwasher wedged into the hatchback, sweating and checking his rear-view mirrors as he makes his big break for Toronto.

"I'll sell this stolen dishwasher when I get there, and with that money I'll start to make my dream of being an off-off-off-off-off-Broadway dancer really come true!"



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