Posted in being grown up, home

Broken Appliances Come in Threes

It began with dirty dishes. Nothing too sinister, just a residue that was left on the plates when the dishwasher finished its cycle. But then, after a while, there were little lumps of food on the forks. One fateful day, there was a puddle of water on the kitchen floor.  

Some puddles are fun. Kitchen puddles are not.
Some puddles are fun. Kitchen puddles are not.

Bye-bye dishwasher.

I called the landlord and was told to call a repairman. The repairman told me it needed replacing. I called the landlord who gave it the okay. I asked the repairman to prepare a quote. Then I got sick of being the go between and gave the repairman the landlords’ email. Phew.

So the new dishwasher arrived, was installed and I got it going. Cue another huge puddle on the kitchen floor. The Dishwasher man returned and said he forgot to remove a plug, and had effectively flooded and broken the BRAND NEW dishwasher. He took it away. Then he came back. It still didn’t work, so he took it away, and so on and so forth. Several frustrating visits later we finally had a working dishwasher. It’s amazing. The dishes were clean!

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But the meat in the freezer was defrosting…

The fridge had died. Tune in for Part Two of this saga in the next few days.

This is Julia, being grown up.

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Author:

My name is Julia. I'm 24. I like writing and making tragicomic mistakes.

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