Friday, December 3, 2010

Don't tell me I can't fix stuff.

I just discovered that a dreadful problem hadn't made it onto my "gettting things done" list: the peg from my KitchenSlave fell out last time I used it (it was a pretty heavy bread dough and I was making three batches of lasagne and not paying a lot of attention to it). I am in a COOKIE EXCHANGE tomorrow night. My production of cookies for said exchange depends upon my KitchenSlave working, so this needed to be rectified. Since I tried to fix it already - with dull objects including a hammer - and was unsuccessful, my gut reaction was to call a MAN.
I question this. My mother did this; do I really need to?

Note to self: Think. I may not be able to urinate from a moving vehicle, but I have pretty sound logic and teach science and should be able to figure out a basic peg-in-hole problem. Don'tcha think?

So, this time I braved taking off the entire head of the mixer, looking at the hole with a flashlight, and finding some set screws. It appeared by looking at the hole of the mixer head that when I was pounding the peg, it was hitting the BOTTOM of the hole into which I was trying to force it.

The BOTTOM. Logic dictates that this means I needed to get the head of the mixer farther DOWN on its base. But it was ALREADY all the way down.

So I sat on it.

I sat on it and pounded with my ergonomic hammer, and thirty seconds later it was fixed.

Don't tell ME I don't know how to fix stuff. HOO-AAH.

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