I don't know why I feel compelled to keep updating this blog with my stove drama. Maybe as an outlet? Or to document the nightmare that has become mine in trying to do something as simple as get a RECALLED stove FIXED properly?
Maybe I want to ensure Maddie has enough ammunition in 20 years time against me. "Remember that month when you fed me nothing but microwaved meals and take out and sometimes bbq'd pieces of meat? I didn't get into Princeton because of you!!!"
The repair man came today. With all the parts and more that were needed to fix the stove. He tinkered around for about 15 minutes and then came up to my office dining room table where I was working and said, "I have bad news."
"I don't like you already." Pause. "I mean, that - I don't like the sound of THAT, already."
Apparently they shipped the wrong part. He walked me through everything talking about triptochometres (??! like I'm even supposed to pretend to know what the hell that is), sealants, breaker boards, kryptonite and flux capacitors.
I'm totally kidding. About the triptochometres...
So he's ordering a part. Which magically he expects he could get tomorrow. So apparently waiting 1.5 weeks for the other part was SILLY because the part was WRONG anyway.
Of course not. Silly lady with her silly logic.
At least I found out that it's all being 100% covered under warranty. Which is kind of awesome in a now-we-can-have-Christmas kind of way.
Except now that I've posted that, I'm sure Frigidaire will change their minds and charge me the full $650 + labour ($650!!! For a CLOCK. That's an expensive effing clock, no?).
Right so... Microwaved lasagne anyone? I may have leftovers...