Well it seemed like a good idea at the time…

Our water heater had died a horrible, wet, smoke-filled death right in the middle of Yorktown’s 225th anniversary. Neither one of us could do anything about it because of responsibilities at our respective museums. So we gritted our teeth and lived a semi-late-18th century existence of chilly water, quick baths involving steaming tea kettles and the overwhelming conviction that this too shall pass.

And so it did. On Yorktown 225th + 3, I went to Lowe’s to purchase a water heater that would be the greatest water heater we would ever own. And while I was at it, I reasoned, I would get a new dishwasher as ours was clearly ailing – but still serviceable.

And that was my mistake.

The water heater arrived with no problem – promptly, courteously and soon was full of gloriously hot water. It was a beautiful thing, sitting and blinking its wise little lights at me in its warm and happy closet.

But the dishwasher…..oh, the dishwasher….

Clearly, our current dishwasher did not want to be supplanted by this young, upstart KitchenAid with its deep bins and its come-hither winking buttons.

At first, they said, the KitchenAid was out of stock. It would come later, they said.

But somehow, the box on the form at Lowe’s got checked that we had received the dishwasher and it was happily washing dishes in our house.

For three weeks we tried to convince the folks at Lowe’s that we had not received the dishwasher. That we had been denied its shiny black exterior and alluring stainless interior.

All the while, our old dishwasher behaved. It stopped groaning. It stopped refusing to use water. It mostly deployed the soap.

Mostly.

Even so, we continued in our campaign to have delivered what was rightfully ours.

We went to Lowe’s in person. We talked to them on the phone.

Still, they blithely called – the happy voice chirping on the phone – “We were just checking on how your new dishwasher is doing!”

“But it’s not doing anything at all!” we would sob into the phone “It’s not here! Why are you denying us the pleasures of power scrub and the removable utensil caddy?”

Finally my husband arrived at their managers office with a four page saga (which I had written lovingly by hand recounting the circumstances of each and every interaction with Lowe’s – and might I add that companies should fear me – for I do have a memory for details of this sort that would down an elephant at 40 paces).

“Either install it tomorrow or feel the wrath of Jim” – he intoned to the customer service folks. The manager blanched when she saw the four page manifesto written on laid paper with a purple ink.

My triumphant Jim arrived home with the installation time guaranteed for the following day.

Our old dishwasher sat sullenly.

We cooked a celebratory dinner to end all dinners. We loaded the old dishwasher, lovingly fed it the soap and pushed the button for one last cruise.

But it had other plans, my friends.

In a scene reminiscent of Up-Helly-Aa, (except think of it in Gloucester, VA instead of the Shetland Islands. Oh – and substitute water for fire. And picture a dishwasher instead of a boat. Otherwise it was exactly like Up-Helly-Aa…except not. Come to think of it, it was more like The Exorcist) the old dishwasher erupted in watery vengeance all over the kitchen.

The floor was wet. The cats were wet. The dishes were crying for help.

And that’s when we knew that it wasn’t the incompetence of the staff at Lowe’s that had denied us the sweet charms of the new dishwasher. It was not their fault that we could not enjoy the special knife caddy and the whisper-soft operation…

Oh no, my friends. It was the vengeance of a Kenmore spurned.

We’ve given you fair warning.