About 3 weeks ago my dishwasher started making a really awful noise. Loud, obnoxious, kinda like a happy drunk with a party horn – makes you want to pull out your hair to plug your ears with. We used it for a few more days, my ignoring Corey’s gentle suggestion that something was wrong until the sound actually woke the kids in the other end of the house.
Our landlords were called, a repair man visited and the consensus was either pay $320 for a new motor or $350 for a new machine. I opted for the new machine, the one we had I’m pretty sure was here before the house was built and may even be considered an antique (ok so I exaggerate just a little). I could complain about how we ordered it from Sears on line (because it was on sale for $200 off the flyer price ) and how it took over a week longer than expected to arrive, or how they didn’t inform me that they don’t include the installation parts but I won’t because it’s here and that would be petty. Thanks to my wonderful father, it is now installed the old one is being disposed of and I am no longer going to have to say, “That’s not sandpaper, they’re my dishpan hands.”
Along with a new dishwasher comes the box. To most, just another piece of cardboard to recycle, to my father – a world of possibilities. Seeing the box brought out his inner child, who, called upon his seasoned skills in construction and thus “The house that Papa built” was born. Bethany was amazed, see:
The house that Papa built from Ashley Stone on Vimeo.
Thanks Papa! Bethany is going to get a lot of milage out of her new house and my hands thank you, What it comes down to – we love you and we’re grateful for who you are and the wonderful things that you do!