«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.

That’s as soon as I get around to it.

In moments of weakness, I still click through the range of electric kettles and imagine how easy it would be to solve the problem. I even follow the latest findings of the professional whiners at consumer magazine K-Tipp, who test which kettle is faster, better and more foolproof. The test winner’s called Comfort Touch. It can boil water and open its lid with ease.

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.

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.

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.

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.

When it calls «Please charge Roomba!» once again, I can’t help but manually place it on the two charging contacts, which it has such a hard time finding on its own. And my Roomba thanks me for it with a loud «Error five!» at two in the morning. These are the moments when doubts start creeping in. Just the other day, I asked our expert Lorenz Keller which model he’d recommend if I were to buy a new one. After all, «new» doesn’t automatically mean «good».

But there’s no hurry. My good old Roomba’s still holding on. And so am I. Giving up isn’t an option. Its mopping twin Braava is also sitting in the cellar patiently waiting for its third new battery. Sometimes I send it on a little tour of the bathroom, as its water tank incontinence can do little damage there. A little later, I’m forced to crawl under the toilet where Braava’s run out of battery and I realise the device is pretty useless – but technically no more broken than, say, the kettle.

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’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.

So if anyone did see me, I’d have had the urge to explain myself and tell them that I looked for broken capacitors and bought a new, old circuit board that came from England and installed it, but it didn’t help. Oh and I also took it to the Repair Café and was met with helpless faces. Too modern to repair, the pensioners who worked there said. Nevertheless, I kept 23 screws from circuit boards and housings in a small, heart-shaped box for years, waiting for Dr Restin to perform the operation. They’re still there today.

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…

Michael Restin

Senior Editor

Michael.Restin@digitecgalaxus.ch

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.

---

Background information

Interesting facts about products, behind-the-scenes looks at manufacturers and deep-dives on interesting people.

Show all

These articles might also interest you