Linda was not a “call a guy” person. She was a librarian. She solved problems systematically. So on a gray Saturday afternoon, she pulled the dishwasher out from its alcove, unplugged the power cord, and disconnected the water line. Then she saw it: the corrugated gray hose that snaked from the dishwasher’s pump to the garbage disposal. It drooped in a lazy U-shape—a “high loop,” the installation manual had called it—but at the bottom of that loop, the hose bulged slightly, like a python that had swallowed a rat.
The next morning, Mark poured himself a glass of orange juice from a perfectly clean mug. “See?” he said. “Should’ve called a guy.” black gunk in dishwasher drain hose
“It’s the drain hose,” said her husband, Mark, from his usual spot on the couch, not looking up from his phone. “Call a guy.” Linda was not a “call a guy” person