Senseless Sunday Sarcasm : Losing it
First of all, I owe a huge apology to my son. He was playing a solo at 8:00 pm last night and I promised I’d listen to it. I went to sleep at 7:00pm and awoke about 9:00pm just to find that my Maytag washer left me with a mess.
I was asleep at 10:45 pm and awake at 1:00pm wondering what the hell I’d forgotten.
It’s not the washer’s fault. It’s following the orders of an electronic panel that went insane from overload. Not surprising. It was the reason some frustrated family tossed it out next to the dirt road leading to the dirt road where you’ll find the only house on the block. We passed by it for months.
In September 2017, Hurricane Irma blasted past our area. By that time, the washer had been near the road, lying on its side for a year.
So my better half said, “What the hell, maybe it can be fixed.”
All it needed was a new control panel, and the 2004 model Maytag that had been tossed from someone’s pickup truck went back to work. I often think about telling that story to Maytag, but I don’t want anyone in my house.
It gets tiring to take wet clothes out of a front loader and pile them into a top loader; the top loader that never worked right from the day we purchased it.
- A “full load” was 7 inches of water, with 2 feet of tub remaining above that.
- It can’t have too much or too little water, or it makes a scraping sound that could be used for torture.
- The pump has an on-off switch to circumvent a “rinse” cycle that insists on no more than 2 cups of water. Do you know how many towels were ruined before I knew why it happened?
- Then, there’s the time that’s mindlessly spent spraying the clothes during the spin cycle to get the soap out.
If you’re not bored to tears at this moment, you must stay at home a lot.
Where am I going with this?
At 8:00am, I awoke — if you want to call it that. My better half has a friend who owns a junkyard, so I zombied over to the car and we drove toward his place. Just as we got to the turn off, my brain saw a car trying to pass at the intersection — in the left lane where the opposite traffic is supposed to flow. I said nothing, thinking, “No one in their right mind would do that.” My better half stopped, began making a turn, and D@#% if a blue mini-wagon didn’t fly past us. Thankfully, the brakes were applied well before there was an accident.
Then, as my better half asked the mechanic for advice on fixing his jeep, a pig with black hair and depressed eyes stared at me. I could swear she was saying, “Please help me.”
The mechanic asked, “Why are you staring at my pig?”
I said, “She’s depressed.”
So he asked, “How do you know.”
“She told me,” I said without thinking.
He said, “She knows it’s nearing time for her to be slaughtered.”
I swear the pig looked like she wanted to cry, so I said, “No one should know the day they die.”
I wanted so badly to take her home with me, but I have 10 dogs already. The dogs would just love all that pork.
Had I been in California, I would’ve been sent to the funny farm. But I live in Florida where it’s commonplace for people to talk to animals.
When looking for a pig meme, I found this:
It means I have to be close to comatose to listen. Not comforting.