Last night, Brian made dinner and I started the dishwasher after we were done eating. It ran through the entire cycle and when it was peach cobbler time, I opened up the dishwasher to see that nothing was clean. Did that make me question anything other than my ability to start a dishwasher? Of course not. I mean, think about it....I have started that dishwasher 1,000 times, why would I think that I did it wrong? I guess that speaks volumes of how I view myself, huh?
I started it again right before I went to bed and when I got up this morning, guess what wasn't clean? So, I spent about 30 minutes online trying to figure out how I managed to break the dishwasher.
When I finally decided that I would need to call a professional, I figured that I should at least wash all of the dishes by hand (you know, so the dishwasher-fixer-man doesn't think negatively of me). I turn on the hot water side of the sink aaaannnnnnd.....nothing. Uh. Oh.
At this point, I realize that I have a bigger problem than just water not making it's way to the dishwasher. So, I called the Fisicaros (for some reason, I have the belief that once you get married, you suddenly have every bit of knowledge that you will ever need to know in the ways of home repair)...of course they didn't answer. I then text messaged Chris. You know...just so he knows that I'm mad. After that, I called my mom, who quickly directed me to my grandpa. Ahhhh....this man knows everything. After figuring out that it definitely wasn't the hot water heater (which is in the attic, what is that about!?!?), he informed me that I have a frozen hot water pipe and that I need to know where the water valve is in the house, so that I can shut it off in the event that one of the pipes bursts.
Do you know how ticked I am? Seriously. I remembered to unhook the hose two days ago to prevent freaking frozen pipes! I was self-sufficient! Why did this happen!?!?! Argh!
I finally got in touch with Emily and she wasn't as upset as I thought she'd be. I was so worried that I should have done something else to prevent this, but she didn't blame me at all (YAY!).
The whole thing makes me wonder how northerners deal with this. It's been really cold here (well, under 32 degrees) for only a couple days. How do they prevent frozen pipes for entire winters when it's -294 degrees? I'm suspecting magic and witchcraft, but I can't prove that.
So, I currently have dirty dishes everywhere and the cabinets under the sink open (you know, to get heat to the pipes). I'm hoping that Gary doesn't find his way to the household cleaners. Last thing I need is a drug-addicted kitty on my hands. Huffing is a drug, Gary, huffing is a drug...