Dumb Sh*t Insurance

Ole made an interesting discovery a few years back – we have dumb sh*t insurance.  First of all, I have to tell you that we have THE very best insurance agent there ever could be.  He has gone to bat for us through thick and thin and has covered our behinds at times when I wonder if he really should have.  I just wish I could tell you his name here, but – well, you know how it is.

To begin this story, I have to tell you that back in the days when she was in junior high school, Lovely Daughter spent a summer babysitting for Farmer Neighbor Dave.  She was to take care of the kids, keep them fed and keep the kitchen in a semblance of order.  Well, Farmer Neighbor Dave had a dishwasher that he used LIQUID dishwasher soap in.  Me?  I was still behind the times at that point and was using a powdered soap (still do).  As Lovely Daughter was loading the dishwasher over there, she got used to grabbing the liquid DW soap.  So one day when she was doing the dishes here at home instead of grabbing my powdered soap, she grabbed the liquid Joy dish detergent that was under the sink, filled the little cups in the DW to capacity,  pushed the buttons and immediately went to her room to do something – read or take a nap – or whatever teenagers do in their rooms for long periods of time.  Ole was in the basement doing something and I had gone to town so wasn’t home to witness this fiasco. 

Meanwhile, the dishwasher was merrily doing it’s job, swishing my dishes clean and making LOTS of soap suds.  After a period of time Ole came around the corner in the basement and started up the stairway to be met by a mountain of soap bubbles that were several feet high and had rolled halfway down the steps.  He fought his way through the bubbles and managed to get into the kitchen where the entire room was filled with soap suds.  He found his way to the dishwasher, opened the door and another solid wall of soap bubbles came rolling out.  Somehow the two of them managed to get the soap bubbles cleaned out of the kitchen before I got home.  How?  I never asked because I didn’t want to know, although the kitchen floor and lower cabinets were somewhat sticky for a long time after that. 

Following that incident my dishwasher had gone on to the great beyond – wherever dishwashers go.  Ole said the soap had gotten into the computerized components in the door and gummed them up, so at least it wasn’t a painful death.  A new dishwasher was then in the works so the following Saturday I went dishwasher shopping and brought home a new model in the back of my van.  Ole had decided that he was going to install it himself and save the $35 installation fee.  Now one other item that I need to add to this story is the fact that just two weeks prior to this little incident we had just had a new kitchen floor and new counter tops installed.  It was a beautiful piece of shiny new vinyl that I had shopped long and hard for and had found just the perfect color and style for my newly remodeled kitchen.   

The installation was scheduled to take place the next day.  I helped Ole haul the new DW into the kitchen and then, once again, left to run errands in town.  When I came home several hours later and entered the house I could tell by the “color of the air” that things had not and were not going well.  I gingerly walked into the kitchen carrying my grocery bags and there sat Ole in the middle of the floor, old dishwasher in the center of the floor, new one halfway into the opening.  One of the legs on the old DW stuck when Ole was removing it and it tore a large hole in the new vinyl flooring.  The new DW was just a slight bit taller than the old one, and in the process of putting it into its location it took a chunk out of the edge of the new counter top. 

And that wasn’t the worst of it – when Ole had the DW disconnected, Lovely Daughter decided to throw a load of clothes into the washing machine.  She didn’t realize that the drain line for the washing machine hooked up to the same line that drained the DW.  So when the washer dumped, the full load of water went through that disconnected drain line and down into the basement. 

So I didn’t have the Buffalo River in my basement, but I sure had a mess.  And our insurance covered it all.  That should have taught me to never leave the house when the two of them were home alone!!

Love, Lena