If you ever move next
door to me and need some help with an around-the-home project, you’ll be better
served by asking your neighbor on the other side. I am incompetent when it
comes to tools and anything smacking of fix-it. Some folks quaintly refer to the
husband's "honey-do" list; mine is a "honey, for God's sake
please don't" list.
- Carpentry? I’ll cut the boards too short and get splinters.
- Plumbing? Have plenty of towels on hand to sop up the flowing water.
- Car repair? Make sure you’ve got a bus schedule handy.
- Painting? As long as you’re not fussy about color, coverage or completion – I’m your guy. But I hate to paint, so there's that.
Buying our home up at
the lake last year has provided me with multiple opportunities to display my
general contracting incompetence. We’ve had tons of projects to complete and
I’ve done an exemplary job at none of them. A man’s reach should exceed his
grasp, and I’m reaching for marginal. Most recently I
attempted to repair our washing machine. SPOILER ALERT: there are puddles involved.
Our pipes froze and
burst this winter. That’s another long story. Actually, it isn’t: our pipes
froze and burst this winter -- The End. That led to damage in the water lines,
the heat registers, the toilet, the kitchen sink and the washing machine. We
had a plumber come in who handled the first four but for reasons unknown
doesn’t *do* washing machine repair. He did, however, remove the lid to take a
look-see and let me know the inlet valve was cracked. For those of you
unfamiliar with washing machine construction, that’s the part into which you
screw the hoses from the water supply. There are electrical connections so the
machine knows if you’ve requested cold, hot or warm water for the wash. I went
to the local appliance store in our small Maine town with the model and serial
numbers for our washer, and the nice man behind the counter scrounged up the
appropriately-sized replacement. I asked if I could arrange a service visit to
get it installed… He laughed derisively and baited me by saying, “It’s an easy
job! You can do it yourself!” Before I could contradict him he pulled up a
diagram of our washer on his computer, one of those pictures with all the parts
exploded (how apt) into three dimensions so you can see what goes where. He
pointed out the valve and said I just needed to “angle it” to get the old one
out and new one in. Two screws held it in place, and one of them was
“blind”. This meant the screw was located on the underside of the valve assembly and it
wasn’t visible while trying to put it in or take it out. (There's a joke
to be made here about blind screwing but I'll pass at this time.)
Despite my better
judgment, I let myself get carried away by his cajoling and, box tucked under my
arm, headed home, prepared to successfully complete this simple install. By the
time I got back (10 minutes later), my commitment had waned sufficiently that I
no longer felt confident in my ability and told Carol I'd decided to “wait for another day” to attempt the job.
That day came six weeks
later.
Fortified by a large
breakfast, several cups of coffee and at least one shot of Maker’s Mark, I
decided this was the time to tackle the task. I wrestled the washer out from
its closet location far enough so I could squeeze in and line up behind the
inlet valve. First screw out – no problem. “Blind” screw removal – big problem.
Couldn’t see it, couldn’t reach it. Carol offered to give it a try.
Now, just because I’m
incompetent doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings or an easily-bruised male ego… I
politely (not really) rejected her first few offers and continued to express my
mounting frustration in language I’ll delicately describe as “colorful”.
Finally I agreed to swap places with Carol and she folded much faster than I
had – couldn’t see, couldn’t reach, etc. We agreed I’d make an appointment for
a service tech to come out some other time we'd be at the lake and take care of it.
That futile effort
wasted nearly all of our Saturday morning. (Well, in the interest of accuracy I
should mention I'd been up since 6:00 whereas Carol wandered downstairs closer
to 11:00.) We made the most of the rest of a very pleasant day together by
running errands, planting flowers, drinking beer, bird-watching, drinking gin and tonics, making pizza, drinking wine, and
starting a fire (outdoors and intentionally). We went to bed still
laundry-deprived and one of us might have been slightly hung over.
I woke up Sunday morning
before Carol and slipped downstairs (literally – I slipped down the stairs;
luckily they’re carpeted) to make myself a badly-needed cup of coffee and enjoy
the early-morning view of the lake. After a while I pulled out my tablet and
found a video demonstrating the exact steps necessary to replace the inlet
valve. It turns out the parts guy was correct about the “angle” but failed to
mention there was a tube just to the right of the valve that should be removed
to provide sufficient space to reach in and handle the blind screw and
manipulate everything into place. I extracted the tube and -- Eureka! I was now
able to exchange the old part for the new. I hooked up the electrical leads,
replaced the tube, connected the hoses, put the top back on, wrestled the
washer back into the closet and tested it out with a quick rinse cycle.
Success! The machine worked AND I didn’t see any water leaking.
Carol came downstairs
and was thrilled I’d been able to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. We
washed one load of towels and declared we were satisfied with how the machine
was operating.
After completing a few
more errands, it was time for us to pack up and head back to Boston. I was
about to get in the shower when Carol asked me if I needed “those two screws”.
I thought she was referring to the ones that went with the washer top; I
couldn’t find the originals but had two others in my toolbox and used them instead.
I told her that and she replied, “OK… but aren’t these the screws for the inlet
valve?” Oh… shit. In my giddiness at successfully getting the part angled in,
I’d forgotten all about actually securing it.
After a brief but
intense session of colorful language, I pulled out the washer, took off the
lid, removed the tube, and tried to figure out how to get the blind screw in
place. After 15 minutes and using every screwdriver and piece of cutlery
at my disposal, I finally found something that gave me sufficient clearance to
get my hand in to turn while keeping the screw aligned. As
Carol said: “If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing three times.” Truer words
were never more deeply resented.
As I started to push the
washer back into the closet, I noticed something – a puddle of water on the
floor. The parts guy had mentioned that the drain pump might also have suffered
a crack from the freeze, but since we didn’t find any water underneath the
machine when moving it out for the valve replacement I discounted that
possibility (also because one of the two screws holding the kick panel in
place, behind which the pump is located, was so badly stripped and rusted I
couldn’t get it out).
There’s a video on
YouTube showing what an “easy job” it is to replace the drain pump on a washing
machine. You are welcome to search for it and if you agree we'll gladly
provide you with overnight accommodations at the lake, some homemade pizza and
up to two beers in return for your efforts. I’ll send directions after I hear
from you. By the way, Carol likes to sleep in so please keep any “colorful
language” while you work to a minimum.
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