Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
“Let’s go,” I urged myself this morning. “Time is ticking away. Time to go write. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.
“Well, first I’ll dress. Of course. And shave. Okay, let’s go. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.
“I should clean the kitchen first. And exercise before I do that. Okay, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.
“But I think I’ll have more coffee first. Okay, let’s go. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”
Came home yesterday after my writing session with a few grocery purchases, including a sandwich for lunch. When I entered the kitchen, my wife said, “The dishwasher isn’t working.”
The dishwasher is a GE Profile. I think we bought it about six years ago. “Okay let me eat and research and I’ll get on it.”
So I did those things and then ran the dishwasher on my own, studying the symptoms. Which were:
I pull and clean the fine and macro filters. That’s an easy first step and one I’ve done several times before. Neither are blocked or very dirty because I just cleaned them at the first of the month. They’re usually the culprits because unhindered water circulation and solid water pressure is needed for the dishwasher to properly operate and clean.
The manual is read. Nothing useful emerges. To the net!
The net suggests the overflow valve might be stuck. Just lightly tapping it with a wooden spoon might free it. Or it might be the recirculating pump.
I spend time looking for the overflow valve and can’t find it. I search for more information on the net but nothing helpful is found. I finally reverse my thinking and search, “Do all dishwashers have overflow valves?” No, more modern dishwashers don’t have ’em. Great; that was a lot of wasted time.
I put the machine into its diagnostic mode and run through those, confirming the dw isn’t filling with water.
More searching leads me to the inlet valve and how to reach, remove, and test it. The water feed to the dishwasher is turned off, as is the power via the circuit breaker. The pieces I need to access are behind the kick panel. It comes off easy enough but tight clearances and sharp edges make removing the inlet valve a tedious and time-consuming process. Some bleeding is involved but I get it off. The valve coil is tested for continuity and is good. They don’t recommend cleaning the inlet valve because of seals and tolerances. I resign myself to ordering a new one but on a whim, I gently shake the valve, thinking the valve is stuck and maybe shaking it will release it. Why not, right?
After replacing the inlet valve, turning on the water and powering up, I now have trickle of water. WTAF? I listen. The dishwasher stops and tells me on the panel, H2O.
Well, heck, it wasn’t showing that before. I confirm the water is on and no lines got kinked while I was messing around in the underside and try again. Same-oh.
Following nebulous thoughts, return to the net to search for other problems and find a video which suggests, pressure sensor. Attached to the recirculating pump, it’s easily accessible since I already have the kick panel removed. I pull the sensor, follow the cleaning instructions and re-install it, power back up, etc.
Works like a charm.
I’m astonished. I’m not mechanical, so I’m always pleased when I can find the instructions and guidance from wherever I can and repair something. It’s like a small victory in a big universe when I can declare something ‘fixed’.
Especially when I’m the one who did the fixin’.
Mood: spirited
Seems like Indian Summer is on its way here in Ashlandia, where the peaches were sweet and juices this year, and the cherries were no-shows. 64 F now, 82 is today’s high, but get ready; we’re heading into the upper nineties this week.
It’s Sunday, September 10, 2023
Technically, if one can say such a thing for an expression like Indian Summer, it can’t be Indian Summer now, as it’s September, and it’s still summer. According to the sages, Indian Summer happens in October or November, and at least after autumn commences. But they’re not sure about the phrase’s origins, and can only make educated guesses about it. Then, they applied those rules about when it is and isn’t.
Horrific news out of Morocco as the death count after the quake rose and rose. At least 2,000, were killed by the ‘strongest quake in 100 years’, and more were injured and displaced. In other news, someone is killing trees in a wealthy enclave around Sidney, Australia. Locals theorize that someone is doing it to improve their view of the water. Sadly, as one person mentions, property values are all about things like views. It seems totally possibly in this age, doesn’t it? And as another interviewee said, they’ll probably get away with it. Another grrr moment in life.
Playing with Whichbook.net, a tool designed to help you find your next read. I’ve never had a problem finding my next book to read. So many books at there waiting to be read, my problem is that I need to make more time to read them. But that then takes away time from other things. Terrible, ugly circle of time and things to do. But I checked out the tool because I was curious. Twenty-four attributes you can look for in a novel are listed. Things like, “Short, Long”, “Happy, Sad”, “Optimistic, Bleak”. You can select four. A slider feature lets you put greater emphasis on one side of the scale over the other. I suppose it can be useful if you’re really in a muddle about to read or at a lost because you’ve tired of a genre and you’re trying to find something different. It’s interesting that it doesn’t address genre or era.
Once again, The Neurons pried a song out of the vault and tossed it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark fishy) without giving any clues about their logic. In this case, the song began while doing various tasks at home under the general umbrella of housekeeping. Then the song started: “When I think of those East End lights, muggy nights, pink curtains drawn in the room downstairs.” Yes, it’s the 1975 Elton John song, “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”. Although other songs came and went for a while as I cleaned, this song arose in the MMMS this morning. It could just be that The Neurons started roaming through my mind as I worked, bored with what I was doing, and brought up this and those other old songs to alleviate the tedium. But why’d they put it back in the MMMS? Another question which I can’t answer.
Time to commence things, like drinking coffee. Stay pos, be cool, be strong. Here’s the music. Cheers
He and his wife made some plans for cleaning, organizing, and purging. “Can we do this after you come back from your writing?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered with confidence. He had other plans as well. He could do it all, couldn’t he? Of course he could, right?
“That’s been taken under review,” his neurons replied. “We’ll see.”
She: “I need to wash those front windows. The cats got fingerprints all over them.”
He, who might take things too literally: “Fingerprints. Really?”
He did another little DIY project, replacing the diverter on a bathtub spout. Not difficult, and yet it solved a minor problem, and that felt satisfying.
After that, he wandered around the house, searching for other things to fix. Finding nothing (although some caulking could be in order), he instead culled their financial files, taking out and shredding years of information. It, too, was satisfying, but in a different way.
What next, he wondered. What next?
My wife and I were once again young and were living in a home with an enormous kitchen. Filled with hyper-modern stainless-steel appliances, it had blonde wood cabinets and a dark, brick red tile floor. I didn’t think that combo worked in the dream but shrugged it off. Besides those aspects and the appliances, I don’t think the room had any windows, but it did have two sinks, which impressed me although I wondered if two sinks were necessary, and a huge work island with a redwood top.
I actually spent the first dream segment admiring where I was, the newness of the appliances, the size of the kitchen, how modern everything was. The refrigerator especially impressed me. About eight feet tall, the combo refrigerator-freezer unit featured an interesting, complex set of controls on the side to control different interior sections to store different foods at different temperatures. Beyond that, I drifted to looking at the range and stove, microwave, and dish washer. Looking at the microwave led me to exclaim, “Look at all the things it can do,” but in the immediate aftermath of that, my wife said, “The refrigerator isn’t working.”
She said that with angry intensity and stormed around the kitchen, complaining about it, talking about shutting it off, calling repair people, etc. I returned, “Hold on, it has this complex control. There’s probably a self-diagnosis aspect to this.” As I began thumbing through the electronic menus, she then announced, “Now the microwave is broken.”
Going to her, I asked, “How is the microwave broken?” Instead of answering me, she began furiously cleaning the floor with a mop and rag. I tried talking with her, but she brooded and focused on cleaning. She surprised me by sliding the large island to one side to clean the floor beneath it. As the island had covered the floor, it looked spotless, which I pointed out. Answering, “It still needs cleaned,” she stormed away to get more cleaning supplies. Figuring that I wasn’t going to dissuade her from cleaning, I cleaned that floor section, and then moved the island again and cleaned the floor there.
Dream end.
In several ways, I deem this one of the strangest dreams I’ve recently experienced. It was literally like I was at work. My team were all there, working for me as in the early days of this century. Like that time, I was explaining some of the things I did and how it was done, instructing others to reduce mystery and increase illumination.
Nothing special. Then I was at home with my wife. I found three areas which were partially repaired. That is, the initial repairs were done, but they needed to be finished. All were regarding the walls where some damages had been inflicted. I called it out to her, asking, “What are we going to do about this? We can’t just leave this like this.”
Next, she and I were cleaning. She vacuumed the carpet with our Hoover upgright while I vacuumed the furniture with the central vac’s brush.
Then, I’d returned to work. It was a new location and I’d forgotten my coffee cup. Oh, no, I didn’t have a coffee cup! What shall I do? It was a joke with me and all my co-workers. I said, “Well, I’ll just use a foam cup (gasp, shudder), or paper, or borrow a cup, or buy a new one.” I set about doing that as a side project while greeting co-workers.
The biggest shock arrived. Lt/Capt Z, who I’d worked with for four years in the military in Germany arrived. He was completely as he was then, in his flight suit, sleeves rolled up. We each asked the other, “What’re you doing here?” We laughed and shook hands, happy to see one another.
Dream end.
I think this dream germinated with nostalgia, a sort of look back by my subconscious to more pleasant and predictable times. The wall repairs section with my wife was interesting. Looks like something is repaired but not finished. Although, the idea next that we’re, ‘cleaning up’ but going about it differently, was striking.
A friend, Marsha, had her sister visiting. Knowing her sister, she’d thoroughly cleaned and tidied before the other arrived.
Marsha thought everything looked pretty good.
Toward the end of the sister’s visit, they were talking about the other sister, and which one was ‘the tidiest’. The visiting sister concluded they were probably about the same. Later in the day, Marsha’s sister indicated the trash can and asked, “Do you want me to wash this for you?”
That sister has left. The other sister is due Sunday.
Marsha begins cleaning today.
We’re always trying life hacks. As we’ve been alive and functioning for over half a century, most are suggestions that we’ve already tried and discarded. Still, we press on, looking for better ways of doing things.
One area is the master bath shower. We’ve owned this house for fourteen years. We moved in when it was new. First occupants. Keeping that shower stall clean has been tooth-grinding frustration from the get.
The shower isn’t large. A three feet wide by four feet long rectangle, one wall is a glass door and panel. The rest are ceramic tile. None are easy to clean. Hard water loaded with minerals combined with soap and shampoo scum load up in layers that refused to away.
Trying to clean it became a hobby. I’d search stores and online, looking for products and methods to do the job. Everything fell short.
Until now.
My wife read a new hack last week. “This hack says that Finish Powerballs dishwashing tabs will clean your shower glass.”
“I’ll try it.” There wasn’t even hesitation to wonder or doubt. Just try it. What’s to lose.
So we bought package, the only size available in the store, for $12.87, a price that made me think, it’d better work for that price. Then again, /i’ve tried much more expensive and caustic products. With fourteen tabs in the box, the price seems reasonable per use.
Today, after reviewing an article and video, I gloved up and tried it on the glass. Right off, I could feel it cutting the build. I rinsed.
Pretty good, but…
Getting a second one out, I modified my approach. My first effort, I’d done circles, imitating The Karate Kid. (“Wax on, wax off.”) This time, I went vertically, then horizontally. The first time, I dried it after rising. This time, I just rinsed.
Holy cow. As Kylie Klein-Nixon said in the article, a resounding success.
Michael Seidel, writer 