The dishwasher no longer works unless I pound it and whack it. A good slam with the fat part of my fist to get it going....a pair of well-delivered smacks---POW!--right in the kisser!-- when it lags after that. I have to stay close for two hours, listening to it swish and crank to the next cycle. My attention lapses...I forget to keep listening....then all of a sudden I realize there is a lingering quietude that should not be. It has stopped again, and I have to get up and kick it around some more. Blam! Blam! Blam!
I won't tell the dishwasher repairman about this, of course, as it could compromise the warranty.
My dishwasher and me in happier times....back when it was a summery shade of avocado green and I wore pantsuits.
I won't tell the dishwasher repairman about this, of course, as it could compromise the warranty.
My dishwasher and me in happier times....back when it was a summery shade of avocado green and I wore pantsuits.
