Not So Merry Go-round

We all have them:  those times in life when everything seems to go kaflooey at once.

The good weather held yesterday.  Mike had rounded the bases and was in the home stretch when, you guessed it, he tore off the last of the boards and ran into another section of bad girders.  More time, more work, more money.  I don't know which of us was more disappointed.

Having told Arden that the washing machine hose had been replaced and to come over in the afternoon, I wanted to dust and vacuum.  Yeah, well.  The marvelous cordless vacuum cleaner that Deb and Craig had given me started pitching a fit.  I'm used to having to empty the canister after sweeping a ten-foot square.  I've also discovered that the thing has to be completely disassembled every so often because there are numerous hidey holes that can become plugged.  One such well-hidden hole was determined to thwart me yesterday.  It prevented anything from going into the canister.  After the umpteenth time of cleaning it out, I called the manufacturer.  I rarely lose my temper with any tech or rep.  After all, I need their help and want them on my side.  However, there are exceptions.  After over twenty minutes of telling me that I wasn't properly taking care of the machine ("But I did that, I do that, I wash the filter frequently"), she told me I was obviously trying to pick up items that were too big.  "What do you consider to be 'too big?'"  "Paper, sticks, things like that."  "Let me speak to your supervisor."  After a long wait, during which I'm sure the gal was presenting her side, the supervisor came on the line.  I explained the situation and what I had been told.  With no hesitation, the woman said she would send me a replacement part immediately.  So there, snotty girl!  I finished dusting just as Arden drove up.

I put her laundry in the washing machine and sat down to enjoy the lunch my friend had brought.  After an appropriate amount of time and not hearing any more sounds from the washer, I went back to check before telling Arden she could put her clothes in the dryer (our division of labor).  Imagine my dismay when I found the washer still full of water and not running.  Aarrgh!  Fiddling with the dials, I finally got the water to drain and get the spin cycle to run.  Mike was just packing up for the day.  "Mike, what do you know about washing machines?"  I explained what had happened.  "It's dying."  Not what I wanted to hear.

It was nearly dark before Arden was ready to leave.  I had to excuse myself to bring up a couple of wagons of wood, and again to take Michael for a walk.

It was a long day.