Sunday, September 27, 2009

Domestic Deaths


This month has seen a variety of deaths in the Lockett Lodge.

To be fair, after sixteen years of togetherness, it's to be expected that appliances wear out. We've been through three irons, several kettles, two vacuum cleaners, two 1970s cars and farewelled Love Chunks' 1969-model Kelvinator 'Foodarama' fridge for a Fischer and Paykel, but it seems right now as though everything my index finger even thinks about touching instantly dies.

A couple of weekends ago, LC decided that it was time to have a wood fire in our lounge-room fireplace. We'd had one a few times earlier this winter and it heated up our little weatherboard box so well we wore shorts and leavened some bread.

This time, unfortunately, the electrical paraphernalia that powers the pump device that pushes pesky smoke up the chimney and heat into the house conked out (two of my favourite words are in that sentence: paraphernalia and conked). The nose-hair singeing smell of burnt plastic rapidly combined with a churlish chimney to fill the house up with black smoke, swirling soot and four screaming alarms.

Several minutes later as we assured our frightened neighbours whilst staggering around with bleeding earholes and broomsticks that everything was OK, the house was silent but reminiscent of Pompeii as ash was strewn everywhere. With grey flakes fluttering from his lashes, LC gave a sigh and said, "Right, so we might be looking at a jetmaster gas heater next year then."


Then his beloved Gaggia coffee machine stopped frothing. That was okay, we could live without the froth on top, but when the element stopped heating it made sitting there with a tepid cup of brown a little bit more un-fun. Surprisingly, Love Chunks' farewell to Lady Gaggia was brief and unemotional. Little did I know that he'd already spied her replacement, Mrs Krups.
















Like all good Germans Mrs K was big, efficient and fairly quiet. She also ground up the beans which saved us having to do it and sprinkle the counter and floor in dirty brown crumbs. Unlike all quiet Germans, she fluffs up a treat which might - just might - justify what she cost us.

It was also time to get a new computer. I'd written earlier about my laptop no longer having the KNIHL keys visible but that was bearable. Now though, it was labouring so hard that the fan would go into overdrive before giving up, shutting down and vengefully freezing my documents and web pages more effectively than Walt Disney's cryogenic chamber.












Love Chunks researched, found and bought us a desktop computer while Sapphire and I were at my folks' place and we came home to a massive screen, thumping black modem, connected iPod docking station speaker thingumajiggies and wireless keyboard, mouse and remote controls. It is very impressive but still needs a folded up tablecloth under the keyboard so that it doesn't rock and roll over our $19 plastic camping table that we call a desk....

Sapphire's electric toothbrush decided that the 'electric' bit was too tiresome to continue with; my mobile phone needs a dozen strong indentations of my thumbnail (and a fair bit of swearing) before it deigns to turn itself back on (and even then presents me with a thick black line through the middle of the screen) and evilly rearranges my settings; the shower screams like it's having its toenails ripped out whenever the hot tap is turned on and the MP3 player no longer, well, plays. Alternatively, when the stupid device does play it's at 3am when it's sitting in the clock radio slot and suddenly turns on, making me glad I've just been for my nightime wee trip.

So was it any surprise that our kitchen floor boards started lifting, presenting us with a lacquered representation of a Toblerone block, right at the join in front of the dishwasher? I only noticed it when my ugg boot snagged on it, causing me to trip forward and dong my noggin on the fridge door (I'm sure the biscuits I had in my hand are still hiding under it somewhere).

Love Chunks suspected that the dishwasher was leaking and promptly called out a dishwasher um, detective, to figure it out. "Don't you DARE talk to him or offer him a coffee," he hissed down the phone at me during his lunch hour. "This bloke costs $150 per hour, so get him in, get him working and get him out."

Detective Zorran looked like the dark-eyed love-child of Jon English and Stevie Nicks. Despite his bohemian parentage he arrived on time, and with my mental clock - and bank balance - ticking, I ushered him into our kitchen so fast he banged his tool box on the front door but didn't rub his elbow until he was by the back one. "Yep, your motor's gone. It'll cost you $500 to replace plus installation and seeing as they've put in a fourteen year old dishwasher into a new kitchen you're better off buying a new one. It'll be quieter and save you water and all that."

I couldn't help it; I had to talk. "Um, at your hourly rate I guess you could choose between prostitution or mechanics?"

"Umph," his head was underneath the sink. He'd clearly heard that line before.

But I couldn't help it; I had to keep on blathering. "But I guess in both roles you'd be spending a lot of time on your knees, heh heh."

That did cause him to pop his head up and his look of shock actually made me blush and apologise. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"Ah no worries love - I was just going to tell you that the tool who installed this before stuck it to the wrong pipe."

Oh.

And so, as the grand final loomed and the carparks were packed with frantic footy folk looking to buy dips, chips, sausages and sauce we found ourselves at the local Good-Harvey-Warehouse-Crazy-Norman-Guy-John-Homemaker Centre dully looking at expensive silver and white boxes, wishing we'd had the foresight to bring in a sample dinner plate and wineglass to check if they'd fit in or not.

At first bounce the dishwasher arrived because the delivery guy was a staunch soccer fan who was quite happy to miss the game. It fit through our Gates of Hell with ease and was wheeled around the back to reside by Skipper's townhouse until we found a plumber to instal it.

It was then that I noticed, whilst bending down to rub at the rabbit's nose, that the little bugger has nearly eaten through the bottom of both doors and his inner stairwell was hanging together mostly by a fortuitous mixture of compressed turds, wet hay and newspaper scraps. How come they don't make these things out of titanium alloy or kryptonite; he's only had the joint for five months for creditcardssakes.......

12 comments:

River said...

Oh my! Such a lot to break down all at once. I think the plumber was right to suggest a new dishwasher though. With the price of repairs these days it's almost always the better bet. How old is your mp3 player? I thought those things just kept on keeping on. Shame about skipper's penthouse, the manufacturers should know that rabbits chew anything constantly and hutches should be lined with something unchewable. Do you give him chew toys? We had some for our guinea pig, little coloured and flavoured bits of wood that cost an arm and a leg from the pet shop. I saw Dr. Harry on TV the other night, visiting a family who had a similar problem with their pet rabbit chewing the edges of their western red cedar doors. Dr Harry gave them a hutch with a wire enclosure and some chewing sticks. At the time I remember thinking that family should have thought of an enclosure themselves, but the chewing sticks were a good idea. Dr. Harry made sure the sticks were the same wood as the doors the rabbit had been chewing as he obviously like that flavour.

Cat J B said...

Oh the singed plastic smell, blech. My bub put some plastic coated magnets into out gas wall heater and the first I knew about it was the stench. Maybe you're emitting some weird electrical force field that is short circuiting all your appliances? I think I have the same magic touch...

Miles McClagan said...

Oh god...John English...with this wave of TV re-unions and nostalgia they wouldn't make "All Together Now 2009"...

Would they?

They wouldn't...

Baino said...

At least you chose the quietest day of the year to shop! My dishwasher died ages ago and I didn't replace it. I didn't think I'd still be here in six year's time. . big mistake. You're right tho, everything chooses to conk out at the same time! Usually runs in threes, you must have run over a Chinaman to have that bad luck! Haha . . cheeky bunny . . the wabbit, not you!

Kath Lockett said...

You're right River, I'd better get him some wood (other than his house!) to chew. It's hard to get cross at him though, because he's rather cute and even nicer to cuddle; little poonce....

CatJB, I think you're right. I'm now dreading putting a load of washing on or heating up some leftovers in the microwave.

No Miles, please, NO!

'Run over a chinaman'? I've never heard that expression before, Baino - surely I would have noticed if I'd done so?

Terence McDanger said...

Oh my oh my, you're absolutely right. Paraphernalia is well up there in the pantheon of great words. If I start teaching English any time soon, I'm going to build a multitude of lessons around it.

And then I'll move on to 'menagerie' and 'smorgasboard'. Such fun!!!

River said...

I'm a Jon English fan and I loved "All Together Now".

dr b said...

I hope you didn't really say those lines to the dishwasher guy out loud...

Miles McClagan said...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yU99CB7oYxA&feature=PlayList&p=2935D90917767BF1&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=3

Yesterday was a memory...
A might have been...

Oh god, it's an All Together Now acid flashback!

Benjamin Solah said...

It all seems to happen at once doesn't it?

I'm sure there's a story in there somewhere. I did hear that companies don't mind making appliances cheaper so people buy them more often.

Nothing's broken on me lately, though. I guess I might pay for saying that though.

Oh and I'd love an excuse to buy a new computer!

ashleigh said...

Yeah, they always pack up together when bought at about the same time.

You can buy a perfectly fine basic Nokia phone on ebay for about $20. I thought it was such a good deal I bought 2 - one for now and one to put in the cupboard for later when the first one carks it. These $500 phones are a very expensive way to make calls.

As for all the other appliances - you can spend a packet only to find that you paid for the name not the contents :(

Kath Lockett said...

Terence, I'm goign to start a list of my favourite words, especially those that don't come up very often in ordinary conversation, like my number one: pusillanimous.

River, I still like you anyway.

Dr B - I did. I honestly, blush-makingly, cringeingly did....

Miles NO!

Benjamin you're right. Warranties only go for 12 months and most appliances are designed to die after say, 15. New computer is brilliant but there's still a bit of fondnes for the old lappie - it even had the grooves of my hands embedded on the silver panels on the left and right hand sides!

Ashleigh, you're right, *sigh*, brand names don't necessarily mean quality. Maybe that's why I'm now in Target jeans instead of posher brands? No, wait.... that's because I'm tight!