The merit of reading instructions.

So, hypothetically speaking, if one were to discover a minor swamp in the bottom of the dishwasher because it has suddenly ceased to drain, should one:

a) shake one's fist and swear like a sailor?
b) disassemble the awkward-to-reach bottom/filter/outlet of the dishwasher?
c) check to make sure the drainage hose actually drains somewhere?
d) all of the above?

Um... So I chose D. Wasn't the right answer, but I chose D.

I took apart, in the smelly swamp of stale dishwasher water, all of the filter-bits and cleaned them to make sure water could drain out. I can not emphasize enough the disgustingness of this job - the filter had what looked like a rubberized mold layer on the bottom that jammed up all the little holes. Given the mold-plug over the filter, I sensed victory and ran the dishwasher again. Alas, no drainage except onto the floor where it over-filled.

Dad had the genius idea of disconnecting the outflow hose that drains into the garbage disposal and, like magic, the disconnected hose drained just fine into a bucket under the sink. That sent us scurrying around the house trying to find the garbage-disposal instructions to see what went wrong (they were in a baggie on the low shelf hidden behind my car in the garage. Obviously. Where else would they be?).

In the Troubleshooting Guide we find...
Problem: Dishwasher flooding
Possible Cause: Knockout drain plug still in place.
Solution: Fire the idiot that didn't read the instructions. Seriously.

No - actually it said Insert screwdriver in knockout plug and tap with hammer. But I'm sure they were thinking fire the idiot...

So, having knocked out the knockout drain plug, and reassembled the red-herring filters at the bottom of the dishwasher, I felt a fit of cleanliness come over me and sprayed out the inside of the dishwasher with "Awesome Orange" - the off-brand orange oil cleaner to 'really do the job right'. Huh.

After this, the dishwasher was spic and span and we gave it a test run.

This is when it turns into an "I Love Lucy" episode. Apparently "Awesome Orange" foams like mad, hence creating the foam-overflow river in my kitchen. The saddest part is, this is not the first time I've had the foam thing happen, but I'm not telling the other story.

So anyway, dad and I had to bale out the foam-filled dishwasher a few times throughout the cycle and then run it again to clean the thing out. After that, we stopped for lunch because by this point we'd frittered away the entire morning with the only productive part (the knockout drain) having taken all of 5 minutes. Best quote of the day happened when I asked dad if he wanted tea - he said, in a serious, slightly grim voice "Tea? We should be drinking rum."

The afternoon, however, was actually productive - we took up the laminate flooring that was slapped together over half of the living room (I'm assuming this was a well-intentioned attempt at making the house more attractive to buyers). Then we scraped the gross, smoke-stained popcorn ceiling off of the entire downstairs except for the kitchen. The kitchen, in a bold interior design move, was completely hermetically sealed with plastic like some freakish crime scene. Granted, it kept the kitchen clean, but it's kind of creepy now that it's past sundown.

The only bad part is that I just discovered this little piece that's supposed to go under the bottom-most filter in the dishwasher sitting on my kitchen counter, innocently, as though it's supposed to be there... Damn.

Acoustic Irony

What is that saying about the road to hell? Paved with good intentions I believe. Well, by the looks of things I've managed to lay a few stones myself. In an effort to do the house 'the right way' I've been attempting to go the extra distance in terms of the little perks of a house, like acoustic barriers.

In a two story house with all bamboo (eventually) floors upstairs the whole echo/elephant-walking-noise issue comes into play. In a well-meant effort to reduce this effect, I spent several hundred dollars and a very tense couple of hours with my father attempting to make these huge foam rolls of acoustic under-padding fit the first room we bambooed. *Please excuse this new addition of the verb 'to bamboo' into the english language. I'm pretty sure that's the correct conjugation - to bamboo, bambooed, bambooing, perhaps bambooer? Bambooee? Oooooh I like that one.*

As it turns out, this accoustic barrior seems to have had the opposite effect we were hoping for. Apparently the foamy-ness of the acoustic stuff makes it very springy and hence difficult to nail the bamboo through with any solidity. So, as you walk in the first room, in spite of the effort we took to secure the sub-floor, the bamboo planks shift and creak.

In an experimental fashion I've begun the second bedroom with no underpad at all, which does seem to cut down on the shifting and creaking (and, in a happy coincidence, the cost as well). My recent visitor, Reverand Phil (who looks like a David to me, and so in my head is Rev. David) was kind enough to say that his wood floor creaked at first, but that effect reduced as it 'settled in'. So I maintain some hope that my floor is just 'settling' and not actually bouncing on the foamy thing. Granted it's a small hope, but hope none the less.

Attached is the picture of the meager progress I've made on the second bedroom. I have to admit I'm not looking forward to doing the floor in the master bedroom because there is just so much of it. Eek!