Because I am a person who spends a great deal of time in the kitchen, I need things to function.
So, when the garbage disposal started making sounds like it was going to fly up through the drain and eat my face off, I started researching how to fix it. But then, it stopped making that noise. When Mr. F came by, it started doing it again. He heard it and said it needed to be adjusted. I said how sad it is that we are always having these conversations when The Mister is not home.
The Mister is virtually never home. I mean, this is sort of the crux of our marriage. I wait for that man like no other woman has ever waited for a man. You may remember how much I enjoy my solitude, so it’s not like I’m mad about it, but there are certain things I cannot do on my own.
I watched videos and read instructions on how to adjust my garbage disposal. Yes, I did push the reset button, and then I did put an allen wrench in there and wiggle it back and forth to make sure the blades were free to spin. And the garbage disposal continued growling and whirring, until eventually it only hummed. No amount of resets or allen wrenching could bring the beast back.
Within a week of the crazy metal-on-metal sound the garbage disposal made, the dishwasher stopped working. I researched that, too, but I was only able to go so far, because I couldn’t get the third trap out, thank you arthritis.
The concept that the dishwasher stopped draining because of the garbage disposal DID occur to me, and I researched that, too, but I am not comfortable with plumbing. I’m petrified of electricity, but only uncomfortable with plumbing. So I had to wait it out. Wait for The Mister to be home long enough to fiddle. He could take the pipes apart and check for a clog.
Until the sink goes wonky, too.
The bolts that hold the faucet loosened. The aerator came off the faucet. The sprayer lost power because so much water came out of the faucet.
Doing dishes became a nightmare.
And when the garbage disposal hummed, it didn’t take any of the water down. I did dishes with the water spraying crazy, getting me all wet, long enough to actually get bored, because the faucet wouldn’t stay where I put it, not allowing me to wash one thing while another rinsed, until the water got too high, so then I’d stop, let it drain, and go back for another shift.
Thursday night, my patience broke.
The water on the left no longer drained at all.
>Cue the freak out<
“I know you’re very busy, and you’re hardly ever home, and you are so tired, and so stressed out, and you really need your downtime, but I cannot live like this! This is akin to people livin through renovations, washin their dishes in the fuckin bathtub! I’m not a princess, I can scrape and wash dishes with my very own hands, but either put in a new garbage disposal, or replace the pipes so that the water drains! I will call a plumber, so help me God, I will!”
Last night, we had an early dinner and picked up a new garbage disposal on the way home. We also got a new aerator and long tool thing for bolts.
Replacing the garbage disposal was not the most fun we’ve ever had.
The instruction book said we would need one person with basic mechanical skills and one hour.
LIES. ALL LIES!
What we needed was two people, one with basic mechanical skills, one with expert mechanical skills, and three hours (4.5 if you count getting the putty from the store.)
Additionally, we needed the one person with basic mechanical skills to be as strong as the person with expert mechanical skills.
We also needed lube, a stack of books, and appropriate putty.
We used the wrong putty. In fact, it specifically warned, “Do not use on plastic,” and we did, in fact, use it on plastic. Sorta. I mean, it got on some of the plastic. Hopefully this doesn’t cause a weakness in the space-time continuum or anything…
These things can be avoided when one reads the packaging, but my husband doesn’t do that. He doesn’t read instructions, either. I’m not saying he’s overconfident to the point of arrogance, because that would be unkind. I’m also not saying that I find his arrogance attractive, until it conflicts with the following of fucking directions.
Sometimes I suggested horrible things, like using a wrench to turn the lock, stacking books under the machine to hold it, or inserting the splash guard into the drain flange. He would glare at me with his laser blue eyes, jaw locked, vein popping and I know, I just know, he hated me a little tiny bit. I do believe he hated me more when all those suggestions worked.
The kicker, I think, was when I read, “To open the knock out plug, do not use any sharp metal tools, such as a screwdriver…” and I looked over to him about to shove a fucking screwdriver in the thing.
“Jesus fuckin Christ, what did I JUST say?!?”
I handle adversity well.
Yes, I know, I’m afraid of many things, and have panic attacks when there’s no reason to, but in the event of actual adversity, I maintain my composure. I keep my ability to be reasonable and even pleasant. It’s terrible for The Mister.
(When the basement flooded in 2003, I was like, “Oh no. Well I guess we should pull out the carpet. Never liked that carpet anyway. Let’s turn on some fans.” The Mister? He was furious! He actually had the gall to ask what else could go wrong, which is very dangerous, because the universe will SHOW you what else can go wrong, which is why seconds later, mother nature created such a wind, that the basketball goal flew right into the windshield of our van. One must never ever ask what else can go wrong. Ever.)
So yeah, there was a clog in the pipes, from the broken garbage disposal, and it came out, smelling like vomit, but it didn’t make the garbage disposal work again. We ran a coat hanger through the tubing to the dishwasher, no clog there.
We replaced that garbage disposal. And the dishwasher works now, too.