Dishwashers I have known

Two weeks ago, while talking to the apartment maintenance folks (not exactly the sharpest needles in the kit, generally), I asked if there were any way to get a new dishwasher. It isn’t that mine was broken, per se, but, well, it didn’t exactly wash the dishes. Not unless there was a lot of pre-washing involved before loading the dishwasher. As far as I can tell, the dishwasher had finally arrived at the state where it put soap on the dishes, but did nothing else. And I’m rather boggled that it managed to do that much, because there was always soap caked in the container on the door. I changed to a different soap, and, well, the bluish-caked soap became the spotted bluish-caked soap. That was when I first decided I’d ask if I could get a new one. And if the answer had been no, I intended to break the dishwasher and then call up and tell them that it broke.

To my surprise, they had no problem with giving me a new dishwasher, but I’d have to wait until a new shipment came in. Apparently, they’re in the middle of upgrading the older models. I suspected my model came with the original apartment. This place was built in the 70s. I know 70s styles, even though we didn’t have a dishwasher in my mother’s home until, let’s see, the 90s. (I’m not counting the five years of her first stint in Florida; she lived there, I lived in NJ, occasional visits do not a dishwasher habit make.)

So I left work early today to wait for the installation, because the last time any Maintenance Guy showed up without me around to dull the shock for the kitties, Tig wound up compulsively licking himself to the tune of throwing up several hairballs a day. And Gracie’s already neurotic and is licking herself bare in places. So no, they are not allowed in without me around to soften the blow of strangers coming in and making loud noises. After two, I told them. On schedule, they told me.

At three o’clock, Maintenance Guy shows up. “I thought there’d be two of you,” I said. There were supposed to be, he told me. The other one was on a sink emergency. Seems they found two holds in the kitchen sink of another tenants. Both of us were rather puzzled as to how they got there in the first place.

Anyway. He did most of the work, Maintenance Guy Number Two came over about half an hour later, and they assured me that yes, I was right, and my dishwasher was the original 1970s model.

It’s 1970s-model trash now.

And since Maintenance Guy Number Two was mostly standing around watching Number One put the dishwasher together, I said, “Hey, while you’re here, I have a kind of light fixture problem. A couple of them, actually.” So they fixed my globe hall light, and they took the metal part of the lightbulb out of my bedroom fixture, so I have a wall switch that actually works, and a globe back in the wall where it belongs. Today was a threefer.

Of course, the downside is, no more goofy Tig pics. At least, not with a globe over his head.

The upside: I’ll let you know after my first load, but I’ve just put most of my meat dishes in the dishwasher to see if the new one will clean off the soap the old one left. Plus, there will be tonight’s dinner dishes.

But it’s going to be great not having a 30-year-old dishwasher. Wow. What a concept. It’s older than Omri. But I’m sure it can’t write as well as he.