For your reference:
Our dishwasher has been broken for over two weeks. It doesn’t drain, not even a little bit. Mr. Gloom-n-Doom hasn’t noticed (or maybe his lazy ass has and he just doesn’t give a shit, it could be that, too) and has been using the filthy water over and over again. I had been cleaning the water out every morning before I leave for work so when he loads it up with more dishes at least they aren’t getting washed with the same old dirty water.
On purpose, I didn’t clean out the water last Tuesday before I left for my two days with Loverman. I wanted to see if Gloom-n-Doom would actually notice that the dishwasher was broken… But he didn’t… So, when I got back from my “trip” last Thursday night, there was a load of dishes in the washer and I asked, “Did you clean out the standing water in the bottom before you started a new load?”
His response, “What are you talking about.”
“The dishwasher isn’t draining. I was sure you would notice. I’m surprised it didn’t overflow.”
“I didn’t see any water in the bottom, and I check every time.”
I closed my eyes, and behind my eyelids I rolled them at him. I clenched my tongue between my front teeth because I wanted to say something about how he clearly wasn’t checking and he didn’t know, otherwise he would have noticed that the water wasn’t draining and he wouldn’t have said “What are you taking about?”, but all I said to him was, “Okay.”
So, since Gloom-n-Doom wasn’t going to do anything about it (and I was getting sick of waiting for him to take care of it — he is the one who washes the dishes, so I should have just waited forever for him to call), Monday night when I dropped off the rent check at the office I asked them to come by our apartment and take a look at our dishwasher.
Here, for you, are the text conversations we had yesterday.
ME: Maintenance should be stopping by to fix the dishwasher today.
HIM: Thanks for telling me. Did you tell them to knock first?
ME: They are supposed to call me first. Then I will text you.
HIM: The office just called. I think they’re coming over to fix the dishwasher soon. Next time when you see Loverman (the husband knows his name and used it, not “Loverman”) can you get your tools out of the truck and bring them in?
ME: What about your Uncle D’s tools in the Living Room by the hearth. Is there anything in there that would work?
HIM: It was just a thought. Forget I mentioned it.
ME: Me too.
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?! He knows those tools are in the Living Room just as much as I do. He put them there. Why can’t he be the one to use them and fix something? Maintenance came by yesterday afternoon and said they didn’t know if it’s the pump or if it’s just clogged, they will come back later… That was the last I heard from them… The husband hasn’t picked up any of the tools either…
Also (on a complete side-note), that lazy SOB didn’t cook ANY food for his daughters on the two nights when I was gone last week. Just so you know… In case you were wondering… (and I want to record it for posterity’s sake)