So who would look online for a compact kitchen appliance from an Italian company that no one’s ever heard of?

That would be me.

I thought it would be a no-brainer to install one of those compact dishwashers, but I changed this type of thinking when not two, but three people couldn’t do it.

First, allow me to provide a bit of background for you. I’ve been privy to otherworldly experiences ever since I can remember. In the very early years, when I had just emerged from toddler-hood into the fullness of being referred to as an actual child, I flew around. I flew inside our house, and I led lying expeditions with my little friends around our Chicago neighborhood.

Balls of light gracefully swooped in arcs around my bedroom, when my mother had turned off the light. I have a vivid memory of standing at my bedroom window when everyone was asleep, and seeing a combination of an oceanic liner and a very streamlined space ship. It was glowing with scintillating, luminous lighting that had no source, and the entire ship was just big enough to hold three people. Well, two children, and one adult.

Later on as a teenager I had several forays into the astral realm, or the fourth dimension. These occurred in my Dreamtime, which followed me back into my so-called everyday world. It occurs to me that they deserve a recounting on their own, and I look forward to sharing them here soon.I never get tired of being reminded that all is not what it seems.

Mount Washington: At Home With Mysterious Crashings and Booms

I live in a very cozy little house on the apex of a mountain – Mount Washington in Los Angeles – that the native Chumash considered very sacred. The first Western ashram of Paramahansa Yogananda is just a short walk from us.

We’ve been renting it since May 2012, and from the get-go we were greeted with mysterious happenings. For example, the first or second night after the move from our former house in Beachwood Canyon, Tom and I were each unpacking in separate rooms when a loud crash shocked the silence.

I was convinced that all of my Waterford crystal goblets had shattered on the wood floor in the living room when Tom had obviously dropped them. I peered out of the bedroom door I was in and was surprised to see Tom doing the same from the other bedroom, and not from the direction the shattering glass sound had come from. He had assumed I had dropped a box! Of course we looked to see what was broken – and found nothing.

About half an hour before this incident, I’d been outside thinking that the third dimension was disintegrating. At that point I wished I’d used a word like “dissolving”! I reported this to Linda Moulton Howe, remembering that she’d asked for people to report to her any loud, shattering, or strange sounds. I never heard back. At any rate, unexplainable and odd things happen around here.

Three Tries

The first person, my landlord, who had installed extra drains for this, insisted that the machine had defective plumbing hookups. The second, a bona fide plumber, insisted that the new plumbing hookups had been improperly installed.

Not knowing who to believe, I felt it was time to call the 800 number listed on a sticker on the side of the dishwasher. I must add that said dishwasher was taking up a size-able space in the middle of the kitchen. The Italian company’s representative was very nice, and gave me the phone number of a local plumber not far from Mount Washington. To make a long story short, they sent over a guy who spoke no English, and gestured that he needed to replace a part.

Calling In The Angels

Fast-forward three – that would be three – weeks, when yet another plumber sans English came with the replacement part. That night I was ecstatic. The machine looked great in its new spot, and I listened happily to its washing sounds until… I heard it whooshing and gurgling and it didn’t sound like it was coming from the interior of the washing apparatus. It wasn’t. It was flooding and spreading over the floor.

Never, let me repeat that, NEVER order an Italian dishwasher from an unidentifiable online company. Even if the reviews are good.

That’s when I actually started praying. No formal prayers, because I’ve never been comfortable with those. More on the lines of at first, “Please let somebody get this dishwasher working”, to finally “Oh Gaaaaaaaahd! Gimme ALL the Angels! Please fix my dishwasher!”

It was now a full two months since the initial installation attempt. We were apparently waiting for a part to arrive from Italy. Never, let me repeat that, never order an Italian dishwasher from an unidentifiable online company. Even if the reviews are good. I finally got a call from the company’s plumber saying they had the part and we set up a time for the following day at 1:30 PM.

The Mysterious Repairman

Tom and I were sitting outside having our morning coffee when we saw the repairman climbing the stairs from the street. As he opened the gate, I said to Tom “He’s really early”. Tom left for work, and the guy smiled and proceeded into the house. I showed him the problem, and he set up his tools and began to do his thing.

I stayed in the living room, which is adjacent to our little kitchen, and worked at my computer. The guy went downstairs to get more tools, came back, and I heard the sound of a saw, or maybe a drill, but thought nothing of it. A couple of hours later, he said “All finished!” I looked up, and his tools put away in a small satchel at his side, he told me to run the dishwasher a full cycle before using it. I thanked him, he left, and I turned the dishwasher on.

Oh happiness! It purred and the water stayed inside!

The phone rang at about 12:30, and when I answered, a rough and gruff heavily accented male voice said to be sure to run the dishwasher for a full cycle. I said something like,

“That’s what I’m doing, and your guy did a great job!”

“What guy?”

“The guy you sent who fixed the dishwasher this morning!”

“No! We didn’t send you no guy!”

“Well somebody sent a guy…”

“We DIDN’T SEND NO GUY!” Was he actually angry with me? This was getting strange!

I proceeded to tell him that he must have the wrong info, and there was no need for him to come. He slammed the receiver in my ear.

It was then that I called all the people who had sent their plumbers.

Here is the mystery: none of them had sent anyone! Who had come to the house that morning, fixed my dishwasher, and left without leaving a calling card?

Do angels fix compact Italian dishwashers?

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