While the
stacked washer/dryer unit—which never manages to empty itself of water and has
ominous signs of mold in its interior—seemed certain to be the first to fail, it
was the ice-maker which had to be replaced not long after we moved in. Its replacement
was necessitated by the formation of a glacier in the freezer, and if ever I find
a glacier has formed inside my freezer again, I will know not to try to pry the
thing open. The oven quit the Monday of Thanksgiving week, requiring a new
burner unit, and creating the kind of household emergency so mundane it would
barely be worthy of a sit-com, though it was pretty scary for me. In general
the hot water situation is like an ancient polytheist religion: quaint, unnecessarily
complex, incomprehensible, and frustrating. There is a toilet that flushes with
a startling violence. The room above the
furnace/hot-water heater is a consistent 82˚F, perfect for rising bread dough. Most
showers are equipped with two separate shower heads, controlled by individual
levers, capable of spraying at the same time without overlapping the same
sprayed body (unless the person is triple the width of any person in this
family). It’s a rental. It’s fine.
New dishwasher is different from old in one respect: red light on floor shows it's on |
Before it
stopped pumping water out, the dishwasher had been making loud, unhappy-pump
noises for a few weeks. Its demise was not unexpected from our point of view. I
called the Landlords and She and I discovered that the unit would need replacing
since it was not worth a repair. She and
I had two separate conversations where I assured her that ten years is a
reasonable life-span for a dishwasher. A
replacement was arranged for, and being an updated version of the same model it
would fit perfectly, as would the decorative front panel.
The
following Monday we had an appointment for a new unit to be delivered and
installed. The Landlord had paid in advance. Two guys arrived and got to work,
and I did the sensible thing and stayed the hell out of their way. It was at this point that I heard vigorous,
fast-tempo, insistent knocking on the front door, and though I was only a few
feet away I was unable to open the door before it burst open.
There is a
sit-com scene where the landlord walks in to the apartment right after
delivering his quick, signature knock, and the studio audience (or laugh-track)
lets you know that he does it all the time. In the sit-com, this drop-in
character will be wacky, and a reliable source for laughs. While our Landlord is wacky, you do not
really laugh at him; you might miss something.
First, he
wanted to know if everything was going to be okay. He had to shout to get the
attention of the two guys, and they did not really understand his question.
Next, he asked if ten years was a reasonable life-span for a dishwasher. Again,
he had to shout and ask the question several times. The two guys assured the
Landlord that ten years was a reasonable life-span for a dishwasher, and got
back to work. Lastly, he asked them if there were spare parts that we should
keep from the old unit. At this point
the two guys did not answer even after being shouted at.
The Landlord
turned to me and with a twinkle in his eye informed me that his dishwasher is
81 years old. He continued and said that he heats the water for dishes on his
wood stove and washes everything by hand, because he has an abhorrence of
chipping dishes. He may have actually gone on to tell me about brain scans, the
strength of his fingernails, and how he had been a sharpshooter as a lad, but I
was in such a hurry to have something else to do that I might have stopped
listening. When you don’t like the wacky
landlord character on TV, you just change the channel.
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