SM had purchased the replacement dishwasher last weekend and the box has been sitting in the kitchen waiting for installation. SM had mentioned "working on it" when we got home from work Saturday, but I was cross-eyed with tiredness from the long work week and just wanted to "veg" out on the sofa and disconnect from the world. I haven't been sleeping well, "up and sparky" by 1 am for the past several nights (freakin hormones) and wanted nothing better than to try and get 6-7 hours of snooze time.
Sunday morning dawned soggy and COLD with wind chills in the 20's! Perfect day for an installation.
Now SM and I are a pretty good team. We work together well for the most part. I like to think that he's the muscle and I'm the brains but in reality we both have our moments of shear stupidity along with infrequent moments of brilliance. And we always fight. At least once during whatever project we're undertaking. I really shouldn't call it a fight, it's more like two dogs barking at each other. We get frustrated, then we get snippy.
I think we're a pretty normal couple in that way. We start off fine, but then at some point tempers flare, voices are raised and those snippy comments pop out.
Communication between the sexes is a complete and total mystery. Even after 25 years of marrinage, you'd think we would be able to understand each other better than that.
There is a pattern to our "Projects". SM always dives in and feels his way along, skipping steps. "Instructions? I don't need no stinkin instructions!"
I, on the other hand, have a tendancy to over-analyze everything to the point that nothing gets done because I'm still trying to figure the instructions out.
Things started off good. I'm keeping my distance but I've got my "eye" on the situation ready to step in when needed (or asked). I let SM run with it for a few minutes and then reminded him to turn off the electric and water.
"I was getting there..." SM says, with the old dishwasher halfway out of the hole.
By this time I've picked up the instruction manual and settled myself at the kitchen table with some seed catalogs, flagging interesting items as I flipped through things, while periodically reading from the instruction manual at certain points in the process.
SM's chugging along just fine with following all the recommended steps when I read "Move the new dishwasher into the hole."
"No." SM says.
"No??" I ask confused.
"No. We can't put it in until we've cleaned up the floor, and adjusted the cabinet." (The end piece was loose. He wants to put some angle brackets in to help support the cabinet.)
"What are we waiting for?" I asked.
"For the drill to recharge." SM says.
"And how long is that going to take?" I ask, firing the first snippy salvo. (I hate delays.)
"Just a few minutes." He was right. By the time I'd finished cleaning the floor the drill was ready.
"Do you want to screw or push the cabinet?" SM asked. "I'll push." Which I tried to do but my upper body strength sucks so we switched spots. I got in the hole and drilled while SM pushed. Misson completed, I then asked SM to hand me the camera. That's how this picture came about.
Yes, that's me in the hole, so we all know my ass is not THAT big. SM took this picture because he was getting snippy that I asked him to hand me camera so I could take THIS picture.
I had noticed that the socks I was wearing looked like the socks of the Wicked Witch of the East. You know, from the Wizard of Oz. The house fell on the Witch and her toes curled up?
See what I mean?
Anyway SM was getting snippy that I was snapping pictures when we could be working. (There is no sense of humor in a man who is under a time constraint because the NFL playoffs are on in a few hours.)
"Alright, alright..." Moving on.
Instruction manual in hand, we've now managed to "wodge" the dishwasher in the hole and are both on our bellies looking underneath to attach the drain hose. Done.
Now for the 90* degree elbow fitting to connect the water supply. Which we knew we didn't have so SM had to make a Lowes run. Fine.
Then comes the parting shot...
"I just hope the elbow fitting fits the existing braided water cable we have. If it doesn't we'll have to pull everything back out." SM says grabbing his keys to leave.
"What do you mean? Don't these things come in one size?" I ask still on my belly.
I grab the water cable which displays a 3/8" tag and grab the instruction manual. Flipping to the front, SM and are suddenly both talking at the same time, practically yelling at each other in frustration, neither one of us making much sense. Frustrated, I confirm that the elbow connector is indeed 3/8" that fits on a 3/8" inch water hose. We part company for a very timely break.
The rest of the installation goes along much better with both participants back in the ring helping each other out in a friendlier manner now that the end is in sight.
BTW, the dishwasher works just fine. We must've done something right!
Is this how a project goes down at your house?