I was all excited to use my new power washer, planning to clean the slick surface of the steps which lead down to the deck behind our house. Those wooden steps were where Honey slipped and broke her leg on Oct. 2. I had slipped on them myself and cracked my ribs a couple of years ago.

Located on the north side of our home, these troublesome steps are shielded from the dessicating rays of that great engine the sun. Algae enjoys a happy existence there when not scrubbed off, and I had neglected to do so.

In power-washing those slick steps I was trying to close the proverbial barn door after the horse had bolted.

Hoses screwed on, check. Sprayer nozzle attached, check. Garden hose faucet on, check.

I pushed the power button. Half a second of whirring noise, then nothing. Ah, yes, I know, on an electric power washer the pump only runs when you press the sprayer trigger. I pressed it. Nothing. I tested the in-line electrical circuit breaker. It had power.

I checked and re-checked, disconnected and re-connected.

Nothing.

When I referred above to this electric power washer as “new,” I meant new to me because I bought it at my wife’s cousin’s yard sale a year ago last May and had never used it.

Having exhausted all my theories, as well as the troubleshooting list in the online manual, I called the GreenWorks customer assistance number.

I have no shame when it comes to asking for tech help on appliances, including those I got from yard sales. I once called KitchenAid for help with a garage sale toaster. I didn’t say I bought it retail, but didn’t say I didn’t, either. The tech suggested the toaster was getting “the wrong kind of electricity.” I don’t know if she was pulling my leg, but either way it was unhelpful advice. We only get what the power company sends us, and I have long suspected our electricity is stale because our house is at the end of the line.

In this case I decided to tell the truth up front.

“I have a GreenWorks 2000 psi electric power washer that I can’t get to work,” I told the youngish sounding tech help fellow who answered. “It was my wife’s cousin’s and looks never used. I bought it at his yard sale. He was on a walker and had to sell his house.”

Okay, I admit I told that last part hoping sympathy would keep the tech from hanging up, but it is the truth.

The tech spoke English like the guy next door – better than the guy next door – and sounded like a nice fellow. I think he would have helped me without the sad story.

He took me through the same tests I’d already done, then told me to remove the sprayer tip I had just put on.

“I’m pulling back on the collar but it doesn’t want to release,” I said, grunting with the effort. What I didn’t know was that air pressure was holding it on.

“Whoa! The tip just shot 30 feet into the air!” Lucky I didn’t shoot myself with it.

He wanted me to run water for several minutes through the machine but I balked.

“We’re in a drought here in West Virginia,” I said. “Where are you?”

“I’m in Canada. Are you on city water or a well? What’s the water pressure?”

“I don’t know. We have a well, and when the well’s low the water filter gets loaded up and we lose pressure. Maybe that’s the problem.”

Yes, he said. Too high or too low, and the machine shuts off.

I thanked him for his help and rang off.

I had already run the both the clothes and dish washers that morning against my wife’s advice, and here I was about to go on a power-washing spree, cleaning the deck and wooden sidewalk, too.

No wonder Honey shakes her head over things I do.

I put away the power washer, squirted dish soap into a bucket of water I fetched from the greenhouse rain barrel, and hand-scrubbed the slick steps.

This story has a moral, if only I knew what it is. Maybe, that tech help hotlines should hire more Canadians. They’re so nice.

It has to rain again someday, doesn’t it? When Honey doesn’t fret anymore over our well, I’ll get my GreenWorks 2000 out again and skin the slime and dirt off everything in sight. I love using those things.