As I got out of my car on Friday night I was greeted on the front verandah by Mr Chic, Crash and Rowdy. Crash blurts out "Mum, the dishwasher died". I walk in the house and it STINKS of an electrical burning smell. It turns out that Mr Chic heard a noise and ignored it figuring it may be the new neighbours moving in, then he smelt something and discovered gigantic plumes of smoke coming from the dishwasher. He ushered the boys into the loungeroom and returned to unplug it and ensure that it wasn't on fire. Thankfully it wasn't, but probably wasn't far from it. Smoke filled the house. So yes, the dishwasher really did die. But a kitchen fire was prevented.
Can we afford a new dishwasher? When my tax refund comes back in 2 weeks we should be fine. 2 WEEKS! Yes, surely we can wash things by hand until then right? Mr Chic wasn't all that keen on the idea and after half an hour of standing in the kitchen doing dishes I was cursing and of a similar opinion.
Mr Chic went to one shop, found one that he liked and bought it. It got delivered yesterday afternoon and is now installed.
Crash and Rowdy thought it was quite a novelty to wash up dishes by hand - they had never heard of such a thing and were keen to help, well for one set of dishes only.
By the end of Saturday we were exhausted and as the dishwasher was only partially installed (one pipe wasn't long enough), Mr Chic & I opted for an easy dinner of dips, cheeses, bikkies and smoked oysters - yumm (not to mention a few drinks).
Aaaaaah yes feet up and totally chillaxed!