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«I’ll fix it someday. I swear I will.»

Michael Restin
5.9.2025
Translation: Eva Francis
Pictures: Michael Restin

Our kettle has a jammed lid, my camera’s acting up, our robot vacuum cleaner needs repair. Oh and not since yesterday, but for years. Nevertheless, I’ve kept all of them – at the very top of my «to be fixed one day» list.

I have to give it credit for one thing: our kettle delivers on its product promise. It boils water, and has been doing so for many years. And it also pours hot water out of the spout into any cup just as it should. However, it does have one tiny flaw. Opening it requires a bit of force. The lid doesn’t pop open at the touch of a button (as it should), but only when I dig my fingers into the groove along the lid and force it open.

That’s annoying.

And it’s not just been like that since yesterday. In fact, I think the jammed lid might be celebrating its tenth anniversary soon. But hey, the kettle still boils water. So what am I supposed to do? Throw it away? A product that fulfils its purpose perfectly? I won’t do that. After all, nobody would get fired for doing their job but being a bit annoying at times. No, getting rid of the kettle would feel wrong. Like a defeat.

Of course I’ll repair it. Someday.

The fine line of repairable things

Until then, the kettle will stay on my «to be fixed one day» list. I use it rarely enough that I’m willing to put up with the inconvenience – so I can continue to tell myself it’ll be as good as new again one day. And all thanks to my drive, my skill and the right YouTube tutorial(s).

That’s as soon as I get around to it.

I imagine the lid popping open at the touch of a button, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. And all that for just under 50 francs. Nevertheless, I’m holding on to my model. Its time hasn’t come yet.

Not until I’ve either fixed it – or destroyed it for good while trying to repair it. Perhaps as early as next weekend.

Mike and the Mechanics

There is hope. It’s a mechanical problem. A good, old, perhaps even solvable mechanical problem. And I’m not going to miss out on this opportunity. I love a mechanical problem. In fact, they’re my favourites on my «to be fixed one day» list. Rickety bike gears, broken watch straps, jammed office chairs – you’ve come to the right place. I can work with you.

Unfortunately, the mechanical kettle problem is entrenched in a device with a cable that draws a considerable 2,400 watts of power. That sets off all my alarm bells faster than any kettle can boil water. There’s also no screw on the handle that signals me where to start.

So, I keep pressing the button that pushes a plastic pin forward, which in turn should push against the lid, which, if it hits it, should cause it to pop open. That’s a lot of shoulds.

Still, I keep doing that and hope for a miracle. Which, spoiler alert, doesn’t happen. And I keep thinking about a solution that, another spoiler alert, doesn’t come to mind. How’s that possible? After all, there are only one or two centimetres separating the button from the problem, or rather the solution. Positive thinking. Easier said than done.

I’ll get to it as soon as I know more.

Cool the kettle down (without water, of course), then press the button and gently tap the lid. If nothing happens, you’ll have to force it.
User electrician’s answer on gutefrage.net

Of course, I’ve tried hitting the lid before. Following our old family tradition. My father also had a considerable list of things to fix eventually. And he almost always found a solution. Someday. When the time was right. But in urgent cases, when the TV flickered or something got stuck, his first impulse wasn’t always gentle.

BANG! Take that, you… thing not working as intended.

That always helps. Either it fixes the problem or it lowers your blood pressure. I have to pull myself together when it comes to the kettle. Gentle force opens it, but doesn’t repair it. And brute force hurts me more than it hurts the kettle.

That’ll soon be over – who knows, I might find some time to get the tools out of the cellar on Saturday.

Eat my (YouTube) shorts

Until then, I watch YouTube videos of kettles that all have a slightly different button-push-lid problem and are remarkably often repaired by friendly Filipinos. Most of the videos leave me baffled – and not just because my English isn’t perfect.

What exactly is the trick here? My kettle gets away with it once again. I descale it and put it back down. After all, it’s not the only device waiting for some tender loving care. There are plenty more defective quirky devices waiting on my «to be fixed one day» list, all blinking and beeping for attention.

So what’s holding me back? Well, for one, I bought a large pack of inexpensive off-brand spare parts years ago. And those things want to be used one day. A filter here, a roller there, and my vacuum cleaner’s as good as new again. Well, almost. I must admit, I find joy in this. Although objectively, my Roomba isn’t much help. Which is why it’s enjoying its partial retirement.

I’ll take care of the latter as soon as I’ve installed a new battery in Braava for about 20 francs and then sold it for 7 francs on second-hand platform Ricardo.

Which, of course, I won’t do. I’d be stupid and deprive myself of the pleasure of seeing the fruits of my labour. Of witnessing that it can now clean poorly for more than five minutes at a time.

I do it for myself

It’s strange, but some things feel much more valuable just because I’ve worked on them myself. Or maybe I get more joy out of helping my devices than watching them help me.

I’ll be incredibly proud when the kettle’s repaired, both robot vacuum cleaners are working again and I’ve replaced the batteries in three watches that I never wear anyway.

You’ll hear me say «Look, it opens at the touch of a button!» with the look of a proud dad on my face. And you’ll see me met by the baffled looks of all those ignorant people who haven’t been forcing it open with fingers or forks for years. Every repair is a small victory.

My bittersweet triumphs over manufacturers put me in an emotional dilemma time and time again. Keep using a device or get rid of it? You can guess my answer.

My collection includes an iPhone X which I need to make sure never switches off. Why? Because the replacement display I bought for almost nothing and installed myself always stays black when I reboot the phone, forcing me to do so blindly. Because… oh, god knows. It’s just the way it is.

I have a back-up device for emergencies: a refurbished Pixel 2 (and two spare camera lenses). But unlike the kettle, nobody wants to use it any more. Speaking of the kettle, I’ll get to that one next.

The thing is, there’s only one way out for anything that can’t be sold or given away: I have to repair-break it (in other words: break it in the attempt of repairing it). Then I can get rid of it without feeling bad.

The walk of shame

I recently carried my old Samsung TV to the scrap yard and felt terrible. It felt like a walk of shame. Luckily, nobody saw me. Nobody knows all the things I’ve tried since the device stopped working in 2014, shortly after the warranty expired.

If the operation had been successful, I’d have been able to watch TV in full HD like in 2012. Unfortunately, I had no clue if all the screws belonged to the TV. Oh and I’d already bought a new, old TV with a faulty remote control. Two TVs on my «to be fixed one day» list was really one too many for someone who knows nothing about electronics.

Nevertheless, I hated losing this battle. And I’ll now concentrate fully on the kettle. At least it’s already been descaled. And looks like new. Throw it away? No way! I’d rather do what I always do, even if that means I’ll end up breaking it. Until then, I’m sure I’ll figure it out.

I’ll come up with something. Just wait and see.

Do you also have wobbly door handles, battery-drained electric razors and cameras with jammed zoom lenses that you’ll definitely repair tomorrow? Or better yet: next weekend. But definitely not on what might be the last sunny Saturday of the year…

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Simple writer and dad of two who likes to be on the move, wading through everyday family life. Juggling several balls, I'll occasionally drop one. It could be a ball, or a remark. Or both.


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