More Random Stuff OR More Griping About...da-da-dah THE DISHWASHER OF DOOM

I wasn't going to add a caption but hey, I really liked the
way this drawing came out.  After all, this weird shizz
happens in my house every day of the week.

So my dishwasher is still broken.  Well, semi-broken.  It washes and washes and washes and washes and after about two hours, it's still going, so you have to go turn it off and have it drain manually.  But Pain in the Ass Man aka Butt Crack Man aka HIM, the man to whom I'm married and of whom I blog about excessively, says, "I can fix it."

Let me see if I can recall the exact wording of the conversation, which bears repeating for posterity. (And doesn't the word, posterity, relate to one's posterior?  I may have to look it up because I'm missing a punchline.)  Upon purchasing a drain pump, which he replaced by himself, (Yea!) the dishwasher pretty much continued to do the same thing it did before.  I said, "I'll call a repairman."  HIM said, "There's one more moderately priced part I want to try first."  Whereupon I got sarcastic.  (I hadn't reached the depths of sarcastic supremacy as of that point.)  My words (I can't recollect the exact words but this is the gist): "So after so many moderately priced parts we might have a dishwasher that works or we could have bought a Lamborghini with the money you spent on moderately priced parts...right?"  To Cressy: "Sorry about college, honey, we spent your college money on a really nice dishwasher.  Look at the shine on those plates."

HIM nods fervently.  HIM was woefully unaware of my increasing levels of hormone induced pisseditoffedness.  (I made up a word and dang, it's a good one.)  (Pisseditoffedness - a noun, a state of being that a woman gets herself into after her husband has just informed her that he will spend more money on fixing the dishwasher than on the last three Christmas presents to her combined.  Also may include the mood of the aforementioned woman during the five days in the month where she should be locked in a closet.  Used in a sentence: "I had to move to Zimbabwe temporarily because my wife was in pisseditoffedness."  I'd like to see the kids in that mega-spelling bee spell that one.  I recently told a mommy friend that if men had periods and cramps, a cure would have been invented decades ago.  Also there would be a mandatory five days off a month, but I'm digressing wretchedly.)

What was I blathering, bitching, blogging about?  Oh yes.  So HIM got on YouTube and starts watching videos of fixing dishwashers.  (I think I challenged HIM's manhood on a fundamental level.  Don't tell HIM I'm terribly amused now.)

HIM runs the dishwasher through a test cycle.  Can you believe the book they gave us with the dishwasher does not tell us how to troubleshoot the thing?  What is says is to call their repairman because normal mortals couldn't possibly fix the intricacies that is THE BOSCH DISHWASHER.  (Wait, I believe I might be contradicting myself here.  On one hand, HIM says, "I can fix it."  On the other hand the Bosch people say, "You're too stupid to understand how to fix it," which irritates me on many levels.  But hey, so many things irritate me on so many levels.  Oh, carp, digressing again.  I should have a specialized degree in digressing.  I seem to be rather good at it.)

When the dishwasher is done with its test cycle it started flashing E1, which turns out to mean that a heating element is dysfunctional.  Hmm.  The dishwasher won't drain, fills up with suds, and goes on forever.  Yeah, of course it's a heating element!  Jeez, what was I thinking?

Tomorrow, I shall call...the repairman.