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Tuesday, March 3, 2009

The day dad decided to do it himself

The day dad decided to do it himself

“Damn this stupid thing. Not again!,” I heard mum say. Even without popping my head inside the kitchen I knew that it was the dish-washer making trouble again. That was the third time this month.

I hate it when the dish-washer breaks down, because I would end up doing the washing. Mum had given up hope on the dish-washer. But is not dad! He loves it when something breaks down in the house. He is always out to prove that he is the handy man around the house. After the amount of money he had paid to have the dish-washer repaired, I was sure, he wouldn’t believe in anymore repairs. I was wrong.

When he got home and found out about the dish-washer, he was all ready to try out the new too-set my uncle had bought for me recently.

He started working on the dish-washer soon after wards. The first thing he laid his hands on was the motor. God knows how he managed to get it out. This was preceded by a lot of banging and hammering. My mum and I spent the evening in the living-room, away from the noise. My mum did not quite mind the mess my dad was making, because the dish-washer was not functioning well anyway, even before it decided to go on “strike” that day for the third time.

Dad continued to work through the evening. He was engrossed with the dish-washer and was not distracted by anything else.

While preparing dinner, mum and I tried our best to avoid directing our curious eyes to my dad’s working spot. But habit was so deeply ingrained that we found ourselves turning our eyes on him. Believe it or not, it wasn’t so bad. There wasn’t much of a mess. Just screws and spanners of different sizes lying around – apart from the dish-racks and the motor. Dad gave us a mischievous grin.

We heard a couple of “ouches” and curses in the kitchen but did not approach him. There were sounds of deafening hammerings. Suddenly, dad shouted for help. He sounded desperate.

Mum and I rushed to him. We knew what was coming. It was a disaster! On the kitchen floor was the motor which was somehow working on its own. The door was off its hinges. Dad was surely for the dish-washer’s lid was off too. I was not surprised. Dad was capable of anything!

What did my dad have to say after all these? “They do not make tools like they used to anymore!” That’s my dad.

The next best thing was to pull him away from the kitchen before he brought down the wires, saying that the wires had caused the trouble. My mum then called the Electric Company to collect the remains of the dishwasher. I went straight for the tools and placed them back in the store room. I was not surprised the least when we did not receive any cash for the junk we sent away.

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