Tuesday, February 14, 2012

The Day I Actually Fixed Something

I should blog about my problems more often. The problems I can actually attempt to fix myself, that is.

After writing my last post about all the stuff in disrepair around my house, I decided to attempt to replace the defective detergent dispenser in the dishwasher.


As I've mentioned before, the little door wasn't closing. The unit is powered and opens, to reveal the detergent, during the appropriate point of the wash cycle. Because the door wasn't closing, my detergent would immediately run down the side of the dishwasher door, and my dishes and flatware turn out cloudy and gross. This would not compel Mrs. The Anthony Show to soak her got-damn oatmeal bowls in the sink instead of letting them air-dry all day like a slow-cooker kiln and cement the leftover oat fragments to the bowl like a dried chicken-pox scabs on an 8-year-old, but I digress.



Before I ordered the part online, I found a video that demonstrated how to do the job, sponsored by the company from which I bought the part. I would have to remove the front panel of the door to reach the screws that secured the detergent unit. There might be a reasonable explanation why they don't put the screws in the front of the open door, but I can't think of one, but remember, I know nothing about most home appliances other than that they like to break when they enter my home. The video assured me that I had enough skillz to do the job.

The part arrived in a couple of days. Upgrading my shipping to FedEx was only two dollars more. I used to think upgrading one's shipping was for suckers, the ridiculously impatient, or Rockefellers, but the issue was on my mind all the time lately and hey, it was only two dollars. Here's what arrived:


A large box, inside which was another box about one-fourth the size, plus a bunch of plastic air pillows for protection. You can see, from the size of the part, that it would have fit securely in a medium-sized padded envelope, but screw the environment BECAUSE I NEED SPOONS WITHOUT SPOTS.

My electronic screwdriver thing has a battery that was actually adequately charged when I needed it, so removing the screws was pretty simple. The only problem was...


...actually finding the screws under the caked-on shit that remained there because it's like a dishwasher and it's supposed to clean itself right? I removed all the screws and shut the dishwasher door and learned that...




...I wasn't supposed to remove the screws that secured the handle and control panel, which dropped and dangled precariously. I panicked that I wasn't going to be able to open it again.

Fortunately, I was able to re-secure the control panel and get to work on replacing the part. You're supposed to turn off the power, but because I live dangerously and don't know which breaker switch controls the dishwasher and even if I did I'd end up turning off all my lights and I was working at night so I wouldn't be able to see what I was doing and the wife was busy and I didn't trust either of my kids to wield a flashlight, I took my chances and yanked out the tiny wires to the soap cup.


Two of the wires were in there so tight it was like trying to pry a Lego out of my son's clenched fist.


I took the old unit out...


...put the new unit in, plugging in the wires, two of which were as difficult as trying to stuff a Lego into my son's empty clenched fist. That was a prelude to the torture of getting that friggin' front panel back onto the dishwasher. Doing that is NOT a one-man job, I concluded, though if I tried to get the wife to help, things would only have been worse:
Me: Just hold that up while I try to move it onto the slots.
Wife: Okay...?
Me: Don't hold it like that! It's slipping!
Wife: You told me to hold it like that!
Me: No! Like move it 15 degrees clockwise.
Wife: What does that even mean?
Me: Just...turn it! Why are you yelling?
Wife: You're yelling!
Son: Is the dishwasher broken? Me: GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HERE
and so on. I considered giving up and leaving the whole thing exposed -- it looks like C3PO! -- but somehow...


...I was able to attach the panel.


Not perfectly, apparently, but hey, it works.


And now my newly cleaned spoons (left) are (slightly) less cloudy than my previously cleaned spoons. Because that's what life is all about: clean spoons.

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