If I posted only the last spelling at least one person would think I can’t spell. Instead, I’m having a rainy spell. It’s bad enough getting rained on where people will notice you looking like a drowned rat. It’s worse when you get soaked financially. Within 3 months we’ve had 2 broken phones (1 of the expensive android-gynous persuasion), 2 mechanically challenged cars, 2 wrecked trucks,1 stolen trailer, 1 stolen ring, 1 broken fridge, 2 broken washers, and a pool with multiple broken parts. Now what did I forget? I try not to think about the thousands of dollars in water damage in a bathroom due to a certain teenager’s looooooooooong showers.
The fridge is back in business because I knew what was wrong, found a cheap part, and the repair was manageable, if not easy. Nothing else has been even close to easy. When the fancy washing machine decided to go out of balance during each load, I couldn’t decide which part it needed. Its unbalanced behavior—constant hopping around the laundry room floor—nearly unbalanced me too. So I did some hopping onto Craigslist and sold it—with full disclosure, by the way. I told the buyer the most expensive part on the long list of possibilities.
I researched; I shopped, and finally decided no more fancy HE washers. In fact, no more NEW washers, period. It won’t be nearly as painful replacing my used $400 washer/dryer pair as a new $1800 washer/dryer pair—which I sold for $350. Ow. Never mind getting an agent for my fiction writing. I need one to manage all these disasters. There must be some profit in failure, right?
Did you already guess my replacement washer broke too? You should’ve seen that coming, even if I didn’t. I liked the Atlantis, an old fashioned (never mind how much water it uses) top loader. Except it sometimes didn’t drain during the spin cycle, and yesterday it just stopped right after filling and never actually washed the clothes even though the timer advanced to the end of cycle.
Second Chance Appliances left this message on their phone. “We’re out of business until further notice. Don’t leave a message because I won’t call you back.” I left one anyway, to make sure the owner knew I wasn’t happy. According to another dealer, he won’t hear it in jail. Can’t say I’m sorry. Except once again, after I took the washer apart, I saw nothing that looked broken or smelled burnt. If it’s either the timer or motor that broke, those suckers are expensive.
Monday I’ll make some calls, search the internet some more, and probably decide wrong again. Would hiring a repairman to do the repairs kill me? No, but considering all the other repairs I can’t do myself and have to hire a repairman, it would kill my budget. That’s why a rainy day almost never means I have much undisturbed writing time.
I would give thunderous applause for even one day without something breaking, getting wrecked or stolen. Oh wait, I had most of one last week, but I used it to wash and fold all the laundry backed up during my last trip to Seattle. Even the bedding had to go through thanks to our cat, Furball, who had a fight and bled on it. Poor Atlantis (my washer, remember?) re-sank under the last boatload of bedding and might never rise again.
I’m glad I know how to swim. Stroke, breathe, stroke. Uh-oh. Is that a hurricane coming? Okay, have a stroke. Nah, I think I’ll open the doors and let the floods come in. Sorry for the sarcasm. Tonight I prefer paddling over drowning in tears. Tomorrow, I’ll try to be nice again.