In Which We Amaze Our Own Selves

Sometimes I have to write posts I never imagined penning. Today is such a day. Do enjoy.

I told you back when I revealed the kitchen cabinet overhaul that Ryan had his eye on new appliances. This was partly because he thought they would look nice with the updated cabinets and partly because all but one of the appliances was original to the house and he wanted to buy new appliances on sale rather than full price in emergency status when something died.

So for over a year, he's been carefully researching and making notes of prices, warranties, features, and everything else. (You know how thorough he is.) Finally, this month, between a store sale and a big coupon, he decided to take the money he'd been saving and go for it.

This past Monday, the big truck rolled up to the house and the guys (not-so-carefully) unloaded everything and dumped it in our garage. My sister asked later why we didn't just have them install everything and haul away the old appliances. My answer? "Have you met Ryan?" He's very particular, and I say that with much love. He likes to take care of his things and make sure everything is done thoroughly, so he prefers to install his own appliances.

(And after meeting the delivery guys, I think that was the best all-around option. Truly.)

We were busy Monday and Tuesday evenings, so the boxes sat all nice and snuggly in the garage. Wednesday night, we went into the garage, stripped box away from the refrigerator, peeled off the styrofoam, and rolled it around to the front door to bring it inside.

Except it wouldn't fit through the door. Not with its own doors intact.

And that's how it came about that Ryan took every blessed door off that fridge. Both French doors to the top, the veggie drawer in the middle, the freezer drawer, AND the grill along the bottom. (And did I mention the torrential downpour taking place simultaneously? No?)

We wrestled that thing inside, slid it into place, put all the doors and drawers back on, hooked up the water hose for the ice maker, peeled off what felt like rolls of tape and plastic, and waited for the inside of the fridge to cool.

Since our counter was full of dirty dishes, it made sense to do the dishwasher next. Ryan unhooked our old, sad, cantankerous dishwasher, wheeled it into the garage, brought in the shiny new one, and hooked it up completely, except for the final touch of the handle. He pulled the plastic off the front (which he had left on to protect it while he worked) and just as he was about to add the handle, he saw it.

A scratch allllllllllllll the way down the front.

And then a second one. And a third. Almost like a hashtag without the fourth line. He called me into the kitchen and together, we pressed our noses just short of ON the dishwasher, trying to see if this was really a scratch or just dirt. It was definitely a scratch. One that must have been there from the factory forward, because it was under the plastic, and the plastic hadn't been torn.

It was 9:30 and the store closed at 10. The rain was still falling and I knew some roads in town had flooded out. No time (and maybe no path) to get to the store, so Ryan called, bone weary and discouraged.

They had one in stock and could bring it next week. No. We couldn't wait that long. He said he would just come in and get it. They offered to bring it Saturday. No, that wouldn't work either. At last they agreed to bring it the next day (which was yesterday), and Ryan sat back down to uninstall the thing and wheel it back to the garage for pickup.

It was just before lunch yesterday when the truck arrived and a nice gentleman met me at the front door, asking about the dishwasher. He asked what was wrong with it, and I told him about the scratches under the plastic.

He asked if he could see it. Of course! I took him to the garage and prayed those stupid scratches would still be visible. I didn't want him to think we had wasted his time. I found them right away and pointed them out.

He smiled one of those bless-your-heart smiles and said, "Yes, I thought that might be the case." And with that, he promptly peeled a very snugly fitting additional plastic covering away from the face of the dishwasher, revealing a perfectly smooth face.

People, there are not even words to describe the utter stupidity that washed over me in that moment. How was this even possible? Ryan and I are two fairly intelligent people. How did we both miss seeing that this was plastic?

I could tell the guy was trying not to laugh and I told him to just go ahead. I told him he was welcome to write about us on social media. I told him we really weren't that dumb and I had no idea how it had happened.

He shook his head and assured me it's actually a very common issue. (To which I wanted to know why no one mentioned that on the phone the night before!) I apologized no less than four hundred times, and he was just so kind and gracious. Stayed for a bit, got me some free samples for cleaning all our new stuff, gave me tips and pointers on installing the stove, running the fancy parts of the fridge, and more. Then he pushed the new dishwasher he brought me back on the truck and drove away. (Probably still laughing.)

Ryan came home for lunch and stared in amazement. No scratches. It had been the plastic the whole time.

Then he came home from work last night and reinstalled the thing. Handle and all.

We are still utterly baffled by the entire event. I have a feeling my first baking in the new oven will be humble pie.