Dishwasher 2: The Saga Continues

The wedding reception was scheduled for 5:30 pm. The clock in the kitchen read 5:01.

"Hey!" The Colonel was excited, "I have time to work on the dishwasher."

Knowing that her earlier diagnosis (pump) had been incorrect, the Blond had no choice but to watch helplessly as I crawled around behind the mystery machine, grunting epithets reminiscent of Darrin McGavin in "A Christmas Story".

"Eureka!" I emerged from my alcove presenting a dirty, snake like tube to her.

"See? See?" I effused, "The drain tube had a leak! It was dripping back into the bottom pan, triggering the micro-switch on the float, signaling an overflow fault!"

The Blond, standing there in a brand new dress she had purchased for the express purpose of not arriving late to this wedding, was not impressed.

"No, look!" The Colonel's enthusiasm was unabated, "There are little holes in the tube!"

To demonstrate, I blew in the tube.
True to form, the water blew out of offending holes.

Right at her new dress.

"You Moron." The Blond said.

We were still on time for the reception, which the Colonel left half-way through to purchase a new drain hose.