Automobile. Air conditioning. Indoor plumbing. Just a few of my favorite things.
But my new favorite thing is the washing machine. I just don't have the arms for all of that lifting and toting and wringing out soap and water.
At nine o'clock last night, I realized how much I had taken this lovely machine for granted. Suddenly I was reduced to thinking about pounding rocks or making a washboard from all of the good wood we have stashed in the garage.
The fully loaded machine made terrible sounds like giving up the ghost. And then everything stopped. The fancy dashboard was still lit up. But no more wash cycle or the all important - spin cycle. Full of jeans and socks. Just about the heaviest load one can imagine. Clothing items that do not give up the water easily. I know. I twisted and wrung out water on two pair of good jeans. The ones you will wear out of the house to be styling. These were toted back to the guest bath and stretched out in the tub where, hopefully, some of the water would drain over night. Another pair was twisted and plied until slightly acceptable for tossing in the dryer. That pair is now hanging in my closet, dried but soapy. But not too much to keep me from wearing them.
Of course, Burt had to come assess the situation. No progress was made in that department.
After talking to the repair service, Tuesday is my earliest date. I spent a little bit of time hoisting out water - seven gallons worth. Dealt with wet socks and the last pair of jeans. Thankfully, this was the last big load. Other necessary loads had been done on Wednesday. Of course, a big load of towels would have been the worse.
So that part of living has come to a halt. But I still have other spin cycles in motion. My office is in a state of re-do. No new paint but still activity on the magnitude of the machine in full spin. Changing things out. First, it was the long goodbye to a nice piece of furniture which had served its purpose but seemed to loom over my desk and the rest of the room. Then the two new lateral cabinets arrived, empty but soon to be filled. This may be the age of data and sticks and clouds floating around, but not for me. This writer likes to keep all of her unpublished precious papers filed somewhat neatly. If you grow up writing since you were twelve, thinking you will be the next Faulkner, Eudora Welty or Emily Dickinson, and then you aren't, it is pretty hard to part with the volume which has been produced. No more need to save it for the museum. But I have it in a file.
We have looked at new shelves at Home Depot but not purchased yet. Once the shelves are up, more writer stuff like books will have a place. I have set up all four lateral files and re-filed every piece of paper in our lives which survived the great purge and shred of 2016. I'm telling you this for sympathy because it is a thankless job when you are the one starring in the one woman show.
The spin cycle won't be complete until more boxes are unpacked. This can only be accomplished when more stuff is disposed of. But I'm holding out high hopes. Looking to the direction of the office dream being completed, I offer up my office today, this morning, in the midst of the spin cycle. Please judge kindly. Remember I'm stilling bailing water out. As a good friend said, which is the only kind who can tell you these things, "It didn't get this way overnight." Ain't it the truth!
Alas, I can't offer a picture because my picture library is acting up. Some days...or as Rosanna Rosanna Danna would say "It's always something."