Don't you dare call a repairman!

Awhile back, our dryer started making funny noises. I, who am rather inclined to over-cerebrate, began to Google the problem. Surely our dryer is not unique, I said; surely others have had that horrible squeaking noise that makes you want to slit your wrists.

Perhaps that is not the best Google string for your search, Fiance suggested. Also, I'll give the Sears repairshop a call so they can send someone out to fix it.

But Google triumphed, as it does upon occasion, and a Kenmore dryer has a history of getting a worn-out flimjammer* that needs replacing. So I called Sears back to ask if they had just the part. Ha! Ha! they laughed. Parts? Try the warehouse at the other number, little lady.

So I gritted my teeth, hung up, and then insulted the heck out of their condescending tone. And called the warehouse, which did in fact have a flimjammer replacement kit.

After a brief field trip to drive out to Warehouse Land to retrieve the part, Fiance and I were ready to start fixin'. Actually, Fiance is not particularly in favor of home repair (hence suggesting a call to a repairperson), but I managed to draw him into things. Mostly by swearing at the front panel of the dryer, which according to the diagram I had pulled up from the website had interior screws at all four corners, but how the heck do you unscrew the ones at the bottom? Think about it--you'd have to have the longest arms in the universe!

We almost gave up several times--luckily, not ever at the same time. Turns out, the front just lifts off. It only had screws at the top. Took us half an hour to realize that.

The flimjammer itself was pretty easy to replace--it just sits there, holding the belt so it can be turned by the motor...somehow. Look, I just put it in, don't ask me to explain it!

Anyway, after we got the lid put back on, the repairperson called back in response to the original message, with a suggested arrival time of Three Days From Now and a minimum cost of $100 for the honor.

The part? Cost $12. And a banged finger, and an hour of shouting and cussin'. Plus a scenic trip out to Warehouse Land, but it was a pleasant drive on a day I normally wouldn't have left the house, so that doesn't count.

Right. Draw your own moral from this story.

*Not the actual name of the part.