First the dishwasher died. A brief forensic analysis implied the water valve: when I put water in it worked, but the water wasn't pumping in automatically, despite the pipe being clear. Must be the valve. Then the powerwasher didn't work. It started, but as soon as pressure was applied the motor cut out. Okay, I'd left it a few months and didn't drain it, so change oil, drain fuel, check plug. Need oil.
Monday: 2nd destination I found right motor oil, and 3rd destination yielded... "no" to the water valve. Not "try
Tuesday: Colin popped round, and since he knows his way around the tricky bits of a 747, I figured my powerwasher problems were solved. "Air's ok, sparks ok, so it's your fuel pipe or carburettor." Or it could be the water pressure as the hose, even when connected by a shredded brass end to the washer, is pissing water. So, sort out the hose, drain the carb. Got hose fixture at 2nd destination. Wrong fixture: 5/8" hose not 1/2" - fucking imperial measurements. The British empire has a lot to answer for... in America, where they still use the stupid fucking system. "The British are coming!" No, we fucking left, as you LOVE to point out, shortly after the Boston Tea Party, but you still insist on using our antiquated measurement system. Now, there's a post-imperial headfuck for you: you threw us out of your country, yet retain our stupid fucking measurement system, even though we, along with many other sensible nations, have moved on.
Wednesday: swapped hose fitting, got part for dishwasher... at the 3rd attempt + an hour wait because the person with the cashbox went to lunch and forgot to give anyone the key. 3.5 hours on de road. Dishwasher part did not fix the problem. Fuck you, dishwasher!
Thursday: morning with Ryan - bliss with my 18 month old boy. Holetown was a parking lot sprawled over most of Sunset Crest, so I avoided the supermarket, got a couple of presents and navigated the traffic with Ryan yelling unintelligible support from the back seat. Afternoon: attempted to fix hose, no joy. Tried other hose: it leaked; brass fixture was hand-tightened, but I couldn't get it off the tap. Tried hammer, tap blew off: we had a fountain in the garden next to the porch. Called father-in-law, who called James the plumber. He's in the area, will be here shortly. I decided it's rum o'clock, so took a beverage and decided to get some garden xmas lights up and varnish a couple of bar stools. James the plumber proved to be a xmas miracle: not only did he turn the fountain back into a shiny new tap, but only charged $150 for the privilege. Okay, it's $150 I hadn't planned on spending, but it could have been a lot worse. The AC guy I got in last month cleaned 4 AC units, one of which wasn't working, and charged me $1000.
Gotta take the positives where you find 'em. I'll have one last crack at the powerwasher tomorrow morning. If that fails then fuck it, the garden's grimy for xmas. Thank god I didn't attempt the garden nativity - I'd probably be in hospital by now...!