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’m getting ahead of myself.
First, allow me to provide a wee 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 flying expeditions with my special 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 a Disney styled Ship Ala Captain Hook 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 adults, and one child.
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. These deserve their own telling, and that they shall have! I never tire 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, Tom and I were each unpacking in separate rooms when a loud crash shocked the silence. I was convinced that all of my unpacked glassware had shattered on the wood floor in the living room at the point 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”!
At any rate, unexplainable and odd things happen around here.
We cook a lot, and when we moved in, we knew the kitchen didn’t have a dishwasher. In 2014, we decided it was time to install one. The challenge was finding one that would fit the narrower than normal only spot it could go. I began to shop.
I thought it would be a cakewalk to install it, but I changed this type of thinking when not two, but three people couldn’t do it. 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 3 weeks had passed since said dishwasher had been delivered, and it was taking up a sizable 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.
Fast-forward an additional four – that would be four – 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.
That’s when I started to pray. 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 over two months since the initial installation attempt. We were apparently waiting for a part to arrive from Italy. 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
The next day Tom and I were sitting outside having our morning coffee at 8 am when we heard a car pull up and park. When we saw the repairman climbing the stairs from the street, I was surprised, because I wasn’t expecting him for several more hours.
As he opened the gate, I said to Tom “He’s really early”. We were greeted by a uniformed, pleasant looking man. He smiled and said Hello, revealing an Eastern European accent. It was immediately apparent that he spoke little or almost no English. He suddenly gestured down the steps to his car indicating that he’d forgotten something, and he headed back down the steps to the street. Tom went back into the house to get his all-important coffee-to-go travel mug and then he headed down the stairs to our car to go to work.
The nice repairman was back in the house quickly. 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, smiling nicely as he passed me to go into the kitchen and I heard a saw, or maybe a drill, but thought nothing of it.
A couple of hours later, he said “All finish!” 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, we smiled our good byes, and as soon as he left, our little Shih-Tsu, Frankie, came bounding in the front door, his tail wagging like crazy. I didn’t stop at that point to wonder where he’d been – usually Frankie loved to hang out with any new person who was at the house. I just couldn’t wait to try out the dishwasher.
I turned it on. Oh happiness! It purred and the water stayed inside!
I followed his instructions to run a full cycle first and when it was in the cleaning cycle, I felt great!
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!”
“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!
I called Tom at work and filled him in. I must have been talking a blue streak because I became aware of him saying my name to get my attention. He asked me to remember what his name tag looked like.
I tried to recall… He’d been wearing a khaki colored short sleeved shirt and matching pants, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember seeing any identifying information!
Then Tom told me of his strange experience when he’d left the house that morning. As he was about to pull away from the curb, he’d looked in the rear-view mirror and said he saw the repairman’s hatchback with the trunk open. He was about to call out a good bye when he thought to himself “No one is really there.” He’d driven to work in a state of surprise due to that thought.
We were both silent at that point, and then he asked where Frankie had been the whole time the guy was working in the house. I told him that he wasn’t anywhere to be found until the guy left. More silence.
You see Frankie had always been a kind of radar for anomalies.
Still on the phone, we tried to come to terms with what had happened. I was actually relieved when he said “Do you think Frankie’s an angel?”
We hung up and I just sat there. For a long time.
Who had come to the house that morning, fixed my dishwasher, and left without leaving a calling card?
Here’s a question for you:
Do angels fix compact Italian dishwashers?
Until we meet again my friends…