Waiting, of a Different Sort

I am waiting again.

No, not for the results of any infertility-related tests. No, not for paperwork. No, not for a referral.

I am waiting… FOR THE DISHWASHER REPAIRMAN. *insert chorus of angels singing here*

I am actually excited at the prospect of the repair guy coming and looking at this stupid machine. *glares at it with contempt* Not just because it might ultimately mean we will have a dishwasher to use again, but because I want to LEARN something.

You see, when this thing first busted, I tried to fix it myself. I was really excited about the prospect of fixing it, or at least trying to. I researched it on the internet. I got out the tools and I bailed out the water from the bottom of the machine and I climbed into the machine and started tinkering.

I didn’t find anything. In fact, I was completely clueless.

And it made me mad.

I really wanted to figure it out. I want to be one of those SAHMs who can just get things done. Someone who can just troubleshoot a problem and fix it. I want to be able to be more self-reliant.

But this dishwasher is just beyond what I know right now.

So I want to learn. I want to ask the guy questions and see what he is doing and figure out how the damn thing works. I want to know what to do. I want to be able to deal with it next time, if I can.

I’m not necessarily going to tell him that, though. I mean, it’s not good to tell your repairman to tell you how to fix things yourself so ultimately you never have to call him again or pay for his expertise.

(But also, if I am honest, that’s another big thing — I am cheap. So fixing it myself is cheaper than calling someone.)

So here’s hoping sometime today this dishwasher problem is resolved. And I can say goodbye to my dishpan hands.

And say hello to a little more self-reliance.