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So Friday morning my dryer died. It's been coughing and wheezing for a few weeks now, but it finally just went adjustable legs up. Shortly after, I started the torturous work of trying to decide what to do about this. I didn't really know what kind of dryer I wanted to go in its place. I hadn't really planned on spending money on that this month. Not with a Vegas trip planned for January and Christmas right around the corner.

Bossman said I should get a Whirlpool Duet set like he got recently. To the tune of $2000. Awesome appliances and ones that I would love to have but not right this moment.

My father would have wanted to fix the one I had. This dryer is (was) over 20 years old. And while it is a Maytag and tough as nails, it's theoretically lived a good life. And I was uncertain that this repair would happen anytime soon. I really didn't want to go to the laundrymat if I could avoid it.

So I did the mature thing and avoided it. I figured I had at least two weeks of clothes to hold me over and I could postpone any decision.

Mix into this my desire to sell my sectional sofa. I'm hoping to sell this giant piece of expensive furniture, in order to afford another set of expensive appliances. But that's not going to happen anytime soon as expensive things that are hard to move don't sell very fast (wanna buy a sofa?). So again with the feet dragging and hemming and subsequent hawing.

And then came the e-mail from Daddy:

Perry reminded me that your dryer is broke --- I kept forgetting to put it on my "to do" list.

Just got done checking out the Imperial Maytag (w/Intellidry) that I found on curb --- door wraps over the top.

Was clear and definite solution --- seems to work normal in both modes --- but I guess we'll run a load to make sure (shake out kinks) before taking it over.

Motor was stalling --- piece of rag lodged in fan (impeller) plus belt idler pulley bearing was bound up with yuck. I guess the belt was sliding on smooth stalled pulley until the rag got in the fan.

Kept meaning to use your dryer to trouble shoot the other two electronic-dry Maytags. But with three of them, it's worth buying a controller --- suspect that might be what's wrong with all three.

Most (if not all) "Automatic dry" that are not electronic overheats clothes --- is false advertising.

with a follow up email that says it's not an Imperial but a Neptune. Like a $600 dryer ... the kind I had considered buying but didn't think I could afford right now. So my father, who I was lamenting would freak out should I purchase a new dryer, went out and reclaimed a dryer for me from the curb a block from my house and delivered it here and take the other dryer away. Dad rocks. Maytag rocks.

I'm off to do laundry now.

Daddy Sang Bass, Momma Sang Tenor

In the car on the way home today I realized the most annoying thing about losing my voice. I can't sing. I am recovered to the point where I can manage to croak out some Pogues or Rancid tunes, but things like Melissa Etheridge get a little harder and Alison Kraus or Norah Jones are right out. I'm more of a tenor now than any soprano, and a hoarse one at that. I was talking to this morning while in the grocery store about how my kitten is truly disliking her medicine routine. I had to wrap her in a blanket, pin her to the sofa, pry her mouth open and deliver her pills and white slime while she squirmed and desperately attempted to avoid swallowing anything.

While recounting this tale of woe, I rounded the corner in the store and found my cough medicine. I even bought the generic brand, Kevin, but it was only because it had a "NEW" star burst on it and was a radiant color of orange. Before I made this purchase though, I debated what to buy. I had spent the previous night coughing and hacking and over the course of the week have lost a fair amount of sleep to it. But I loathe taking that disgusting cough syrup and wondered if the gel pills would get the job done. Rich interrupted my internal struggle:

"You really are just as bad as your cat. I could wrap you in a blanket and force you to take your cough syrup twice a day, Miss Kitty."

I'm not sure it's possible to frown over a cell phone and have the reception carry that in the same tone.

And he's probably right that if anyone were to witness our cough syrup delivery routine that no one would really understand.

The kitten and I are off to take more medicine and find some dinner.

Me and Henry Down by the FestHaus

Life is getting better steadily. Friday night I decided to move my fridge into the kitchen from the dining room. This involved tearing out a set of cabinets and then finding a water problem under my old fridge. I called Dad over to check out the floor and he helped me put the new fridge in place. I now have filtered water and ice coming from a dispenser on the front of my fridge. Wonders never cease.

Saturday I started losing my voice. This has carried over until about today. Rich and I went to Howl-o-Scream at Busch Gardens and won a large orange rhino (which I have named Henry). I was the envy of every teenaged girl in the park. Henry, Rich and I then rode every ride in the park and were entertained by the Freaky Festhaus dancers (as well as the saucy young girls who apparently decided to join in on the dancing).

That night, Rich helped me move my television into place. It's a tight squeeze but it fits. So now we sit on the sofa and marvel and its magnitude. Charlie's boobs on Ground Force are just so ... larger than life.

The kitten is doing much better. But I must say I'm becoming pretty neurotic about monitoring my cat's food intake and litter box usage. I actually cheered the cat because she pooped this evening. Yeah, I know ... she gave me that same "I don't even know who you are anymore" look too.

The kitten has two banes of her existence right now. She is not allowed outside (to allow my constant vigil over her litter box and general behavior) and she must take medicine twice a day. The latter seems to be the bane of both our existences in that I must perform this cat torture twice a day. I have to wrap her in a blanket so that only her frowny little black head is poking out. And then I must either pry her head open to deliver three quarters of a pill or .4ml of icky white slime. Neither of us are pleased about this. The whole ordeal is pretty intense for kitty and girl alike.

So I have a new television, a stove in place, a fridge in place, a giant orange rhino named Henry, a frowny kitty and a new lease on life. I still sound a bit like Selma Bouvier from the Simpsons, but I hope to be better in the next day or so.