The subtle gift of a broken appliance

I know this sounds schmaltzy, but it's Thanksgiving, so...

The rack on the dishwasher went cock-eyed, so I went online, educated myself as to how to fix the thing, ordered what needed ordering and sat down with a how-to video playing as I replaced the parts that needed replacing.

And then? The damn thing quit on me. The rack still rolled smoothly in and out of the box, but without any water jetting out, my four-year old dishwasher became a large storage unit for dirty dishes.

I was pretty sure I’d done…something…to wreck the thing, so I called a professional, and was scheduled for a date some weeks hence.

In the meantime, we settled in to wash dishes by hand, which at the time seemed like a huge imposition — huge, I tell you. I would have said that out loud had that statement not blown through first-world problems straight into entitled obnoxiousness. Waaah! My dishwasher broke, the pony has a limp, and I can’t seem to start my Lear — that kind of a thing.

Neither of us grew up with a dishwasher, and as it turns out, washing dishes by hand is a skill that comes back quickly, like riding a bike or punching your brother. Weirdly, I began to look forward to the mediative post-meal time when I would scrub and dry and put away the dishes I’d just used. I am not one for contemplative living, but it sort of forced itself on me there in the kitchen, standing at the sink, looking out over the downtown of my little Connecticut Valley town. Though I normally take broken appliances as a personal affront, I stopped thinking about the dishwasher until I got an email reminding me someone was coming to make things right. I contemplated cancelling. I mean…

But I didn’t. The dishwasher is now fixed, and I could have bought three-quarters of a new one for what I paid, but it’s fixed. Carlos the Repair Guy (who delightfully talks to himself, as do I, so I felt a kinship) said new dishwashers — no matter the model — are engineered to last five years, max. This one made it to a little more than four, so for that, I guess I am grateful. Carlos says to always buy the extended warranty, which I rarely do. I might start, though, as I am coming to realize that there’s no such thing as an old and trustworthy dishwasher/fridge. They are only here for a moment in time, like a moth’s wing or the dawn.

Of course, there’s nothing stopping me from continuing to load up the soapy sink and bypassing my like-new appliance. Maybe I can extend its life and have a little pleasant down time, as well, though Carlos says he just repaired a relatively new dishwasher that was used maybe once a week. He also said that, after replacing the motor that needed replacing, I won’t need to see him again. That’s a pity. Carlos seems like a nice guy. Perhaps on the next sink load, I shall contemplate the nature of connectedness in fleeting relationships such as this one. Or I’ll just stare out at the lights, one.

Happy Thanksgiving, one and all. I’m glad I know you.