This is the second house we’ve owned, but because our first house was so easy there are times it feels like we’re doing everything for the first time here. Well, that and because this is the first yard we’ve had, the first driveway, the first time without a homeowners’ association that would take care of certain things, etc.
Yesterday felt like the universe was trying to teach us a lesson every time we turned around. It started when we woke up and went into the kitchen to make brunch but discovered a horrid, dead animal smell coming from the dishwasher. We cut the power to it and tried to pull it out, but it got stuck. I realized the hoses connected to the sink were what was keeping it from moving all the way out, but we had no idea how to turn the water off. In our townhouse, we had a panel in the laundry area with hot and cold water shutoff valves for every single water-producing thing in the house. In this 84-year-old house, not so much. We did discover some valves in the basement, but turning them off did nothing.
Eventually we located the valves for the kitchen sink, but once we got the dishwasher away from the counter top we realized the smell wasn’t coming from behind it, it was coming from inside it. We looked everywhere we could in the thing, but couldn’t find any dead animals. We checked the water and drain hoses to make sure nothing was clogged, and checked the food trap as best we could (we have some fancy new model dishwasher and you can’t take apart the food trap like you could in other models we’ve had before), but found nothing. I ended up running a cycle with eight ounces of vinegar inside and that seems to help some, but there is still a slightly deathy smell in there. Since I don’t feel like paying a few hundred dollars for a technician to come out and disassemble the thing, I’m going to just wait it out and hope that if there is a dead animal in there it decomposes and gets flushed out quickly. Sounds sanitary, doesn’t it? (Don’t worry: If the smell doesn’t go away soon I’m sure we’ll break down and pay someone to take this thing apart. Or try it ourselves if we have the right tools.)
After spending a bit of time unpacking and organizing some of the boxes we took out of our storage unit, we spent the afternoon with our neighbor digging up the stupid-ass pampas grass
that the seller of this house had put in, and that was a beast of a job. Ian had the fun task of digging six of those fuckers up out of the ground—an ordeal that took about two hours. These things were less than a year old, too. I can’t imagine how bad it would’ve been if they’d been well-established plants. My neighbor and I also cleaned up all of the trash that people had dumped out in front of the wooded area next to our house, and then made a list of what plants and trees I want to plant in the front yard in the coming week or two.
Later that night, after dinner, as we were settling in to watch some Burn Notice, Ian discovered the garbage disposal wasn’t working. It had power to it, but the blades weren’t spinning. He messed with it while I googled how to potentially fix it, and we figured out that something was likely making the blades catch. Once he stuck a screwdriver in there and forced the blades to move (for the record, Google results recommend using a wooden broom handle since it’s less likely to break off in there), we were back in business.
Considering we normally spend our Sundays getting drunk and playing video games or watching TV, this was an exhausting day. Adulthood is not always all it’s cracked up to be.