1. The Master Shower Door. She's been very finicky lately. Sometimes she shuts, sometimes she doesn't. You never know when she's going to cooperate or when she's going to leak water out all over your bathroom floor. Chris has finagled her a couple of times, but we're pretty sure she's just going to have to be replaced.
2. My Beloved Washing Machine. Yes, I've blogged about her before -- the better half of my Duet. I have a love/hate relationship with this one. Because when she's good, she's very, very good. But when she F11s, she's horrid. Like any high-maintenance girl, she needs to be wooed, coaxed, cajoled. When she cries out her annoying F11 beep, I jiggle all of her wires and speak softly to her sudsy self. "Come on, Baby, don't give up now. You're strong. You're powerful. You can do this." Because I'll be damned if I'm replacing her expensive self any time soon.
3. The Suburban Back Hatch. This one is more than a little inconvenient. That damn gate won't stay up by itself anymore. So, I either have to load or unload groceries through the back window, or I have to trust one of the kids to hold the incredibly heavy back hatch up without letting it fall and completely severing my head from my body. Let me assure you that it's not very comforting to be under the shadow of that beast when George says, "Mom, are you almost done? I can't hold this much longer! It's getting too heavy! Moooooooommmmm!" Normally, I choose the window.
4. Lucy. Yup, she's still broken. Sometimes she tears around the yard on that hind leg like a bat out of Hades. Other times, she won't bear any weight on it at all. The vets are perplexed, but they're pretty sure they can determine what's wrong once we agree to invest the net worth of our firstborn into some diagnostic testing. I love Lucy a lot, but I also love eating and wearing clothes and feeding my children -- all of which cost the money that would have to be sacrificed to find a conclusive diagnosis. As Chris likes to point out, "There are a lot of good three-legged dogs in this world. She'll be one of them."
5. Back Patio Door. The lock broke on this bad boy. It's always been a bitch to open and close, to lock and unlock. Finally, he just gave in. Luckily, he was still under warranty, so the replacement piece has already been installed by my Renaissance Man. Now I can sleep at night.
6. Sonny. The other half of the goldfish duo, Sonny and Claire (sooooo close to the originals, my friends, but we couldn't convince Mary to go with Cher instead) kicked the bucket yesterday. Granted, we hadn't had him for long. Mary Claire won them at the Fall Festival, and we were all banking on an early demise. I guess that doesn't make him broken, though. Just dead. RIP Sonny.
7. The Dishwasher Door. Chris and George took it apart last night, but they still couldn't get it to open and close properly. The new handle has been ordered, but until then, I've been given strict instructions to NOT shut the door completely. Apparently, it has to be coaxed back open with a screwdriver. Me not closing the dishwasher door completely is sheer, unadulterated torture. It's like having socks hanging out of your dresser drawer or the fringe on your carpet being wadded and tangled. Ugh.
8. The South Beach Lifestyle. Because of my training, I've been adding more carbs back into my diet. Good ones, of course, but I must admit that carbs are a slippery slope. I mean, if I can eat some whole wheat bread, why not just go ahead and throw peanut butter M&Ms back into the mix, too? Lots of peanut butter M&Ms. I'm getting all hot and bothered just thinking about them. When I cross the finish line on November 6, I'm going straight back to Phase 1. Well, after I vomit relentlessly, curl up into the fetal position for at least a week, and swear off running shoes for the rest of my life. Right after that.
I'm not sure what all this brokenness means. Armageddon? A reconsideration of my refusal to buy extended warranties? A nudge to return to work so my salary can cover all of our minor catastrophes?
I'm going to go contemplate it over some peanut butter M&Ms.
No comments:
Post a Comment