Remember the good old days when your Fantastic Vent fan pretty much had a ‘forever’ warranty? Then a few years ago they were bought out by Attwood, and that great customer service went away.
A few years ago, Pre-Attwood, I needed a lift motor for our bathroom fan and they sent me a new one completely free. Then last year I needed to replace the same motor again. Now Post-Attwood, it was $37 plus shipping.
Then last month I needed a new fan motor for the kitchen fan. And it was $69 including shipping. But it did ship out the next day.
Then last Thursday, I ordered fan for the bathroom unit, because I like the power of the new one in the kitchen. When I called Monday to get a UPS tracking number, they didn’t have one yet. Said it would probably ship out that day, and to call back Wednesday, i.e. today.
So when I called today I was told that there was still no tracking number because . . . wait for it . . . it hadn’t even shipped yet. When I questioned why, I was told that they had changed procedures in the warehouse. When I asked, “To make things slower?”, I got a “Well, ah . . . “ answer.
Which means it almost certainly won’t be here by Friday and we leave here to go back to Conroe on Monday. At least I had it sent to our daughter Brandi’s, so I won’t have to track it down back here at Colorado River.
On the upside, Brandi called this afternoon and said my slideout shear pin had come in. Jan and I will go over there Saturday afternoon and pick it up. And of course we’ll use it as an excuse to eat at Little V’s Vietnamese Bistro once again.
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Today’s project was to pull out our Splendide washer/dryer and reattached the dryer vent hose. It had come loose at the dryer end since I last worked on it in January 2013, and the only way to fix it is to pull the unit out.
First up, both doors have to come off, as well as the top latch hardware.
Next, the bottom retaining strip comes off.
Then I pulled the straps from underneath the unit. The last time I worked on it I installed these to make it easier to pull the washer out of the cabinet.
As you can see there’s really no room to get a grip to pull it out.
And after a lot of tugging, it starts to move.
The floor dolly makes it much easier to handle. The dolly also makes it easier to move the unit out into the kitchen when I actually need to work on it.
The string is used to pull the drain hose out of the way as the unit is pushed back in so it doesn’t get crimped.
Here I’ve re-installed the vent hose on the washer and am using the stick to guide it to the outside vent hole.
And here it is all fixed in place.
And all buttoned up. Then to double-check, I started the dryer and checked to be sure I had airflow from the vent.
Another repair checked off the list.
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While I was outside working on the dryer vent, blog reader’s Jim and Perri Dean came by to say ‘Hi’, when they were cruising the park to pick out a space to park their 5’er. We last saw them in Las Vegas in May 2013, and it’s good to get back together again
* * * *
For dinner Jan headed up the leftover fish and shrimp from last night’s seafood meal. She also did up a can of the Bush’s Grillin’ Steakhouse recipe beans. And along with a salad, it was a really good meal.
Tomorrow, who knows?
Thought for the Day:
The Difference Between Men And Women
Let’s say a guy named Fred is attracted to a woman named Martha. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.
And then, one evening when they’re driving home, a thought occurs to Martha, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: "Do you realize that, as of tonight, we’ve been seeing each other for exactly six months?"
And then, there is silence in the car.
To Martha, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he’s been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I’m trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn’t want, or isn’t sure of.
And Fred is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
And Martha is thinking: But, hey, I’m not so sure I want this kind of relationship either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I’d have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily towards, I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?
And Fred is thinking: …so that means it was…let’s see…February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer’s, which means…lemme check the odometer…Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.
And Martha is thinking: He’s upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I’m reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed – even before I sensed it – that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that’s it. That’s why he’s so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He’s afraid of being rejected.
And Fred is thinking: And I’m gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don’t care what those morons say, it’s still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It’s 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.
And Martha is thinking: He’s angry. And I don’t blame him. I’d be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can’t help the way I feel. I’m just not sure.
And Fred is thinking: They’ll probably say it’s only a 90-day warranty…scumballs.
And Martha is thinking: Maybe I’m just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I’m sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.
And Fred is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I’ll give them a warranty. I’ll take their warranty and stick it right up their…
"Fred," Martha says aloud.
"What?" says Fred, startled.
"Please don’t torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have…oh dear, I feel so…"(She breaks down, sobbing.)
"What?" says Fred.
"I’m such a fool," Martha sobs. "I mean, I know there’s no knight. I really know that. It’s silly. There’s no knight, and there’s no horse."
"There’s no horse?" says Fred.
"You think I’m a fool, don’t you?" Martha says.
"No!" says Fred, glad to finally know the correct answer.
"It’s just that…it’s that I…I need some time," Martha says.
(There is a 15-second pause while Fred, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)
"Yes," he says. (Martha, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
"Oh, Fred, do you really feel that way?" she says.
"What way?" says Fred.
"That way about time," says Martha.
"Oh," says Fred. "Yes." (Martha turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)
"Thank you, Fred," she says.
"Thank you," says Fred.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Fred gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a college basketball game between two South Dakota junior colleges that he has never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it’s better if he doesn’t think about it.
The next day Martha will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification.
They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it either.
Meanwhile, Fred, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Martha’s, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: "Norm, did Martha ever own a horse?"
And that’s the difference between men and women.
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