I’m rather hard headed – as you’ve probably figured out. I don’t give up easily. I’m not going to have a headstone, but if I did it would say: She never gave up.
However, there are times when I think God or the Universe is trying to get my attention.
For example, this morning.
The very nice plumbers are here installing another PRV. Stanley is in his halter, barking like mad (he’s going into the backyard when they come into the house), so working is a little difficult. I have this project I want to finish before January 15th, but it requires a lot of focus.
I don’t have that right now.
So, I wrote this very long blog post that segued into a rant. I was all ranty and foaming at the mouth. I pontificated. I was on my soapbox.
I accidentally erased the whole thing.
I don’t know how I did it. I’m using a different blog editor from WordPress’s default editor so I’m still working out the kinks. I went back, recreated it as well as I could and lost the second version.
That was pretty much a slap in the face.
It was like someone was saying: It’s Karen Ranney, not Karen Ranty.
How much you wanna bet I don’t lose this post? (I didn’t, so message received.)
Hear noises every morning you come into your office. Since you start work before 5:00 AM, this is early, before sunrise.
Stare at the ceiling for several minutes as you listen to the footsteps, scrabbling, and generally sounds you don’t expect in your ceiling.
Talk to your dog about the noises.
Go get the broom and hit the ceiling repeatedly, then the exterior walls, all while discussing the issue with your dog.
Congratulate yourself on your brilliance when the noise stops.
On the second day, hear footsteps, something that sounds like curtain rings sliding across a rod, and strangely enough, the sound of something metallic being dropped.
Repeat #4 for at least ten minutes.
On the third day, don’t even talk to the dog. Just get the broom and start banging the hell out of everything. Dog retreats from the room, just in case.
Grab your Amazon Tap, the Alexa speaker that uses batteries, and command it to play marching bands. Turn the speaker up to ear bleed levels and hold the speaker up to the vent.
Realize you have lost your mind and the battle with the varmint. It is merrily running all over the ceiling – which is hard to do since this is a cathedral ceiling.
Give up and call Varmint Masters. They’ll be here tomorrow morning. It’s curtains for you, squirrel or possum or skunk or cat or whatever you are. Okay, maybe not curtains. I don’t want you dead. I just want you gone.
This past weekend I did the laundry as I normally do. I use the regular washer for the cotton stuff and the pedestal washer for my intimates.
I opened the pedestal washer, piled all my bras inside, then decided to go ahead and wash the bra I was wearing since I’d gotten myself wet while cleaning the walk in tub.
You know where this is going, right?
The door of the pedestal washer jammed. It wouldn’t start. I honestly think it was my fault. I’m very careful to check the door twice before I slide the pedestal back into position. This time I forgot.
I heard this whirring sound and knew what happened immediately. When I tried to open the washer it wouldn’t budge.
I just stood there and started to laugh. All my bras were in the pedestal washer. Just to make sure I went into the bedroom and rooted through the drawers. Nope, no bras.
Y’all, this little rose is not the type to go without, shall we say, support.
Since it was Saturday I knew I wouldn’t be able to contact the warranty department. Thank heavens I bought an extended warranty on the little darling. Monday morning I contacted them and, just as I thought, I couldn’t get the LG people here until next week.
Guess who placed an emergency order to Amazon?
It is to laugh.
Has your washer ever eaten your clothes?
EDITED TO ADD PICTURES OF A PEDESTAL WASHER:
A pedestal washer fits beneath a regular washer. You access it by pulling it out, then pushing it back into place before the washer starts. It’s for small loads or hand washed items.
Don’t ask me how I found this place. I wasn’t actually looking for it, but isn’t that a cute idea for a Christmas present? If I wore socks (I wear tennis shoes that don’t require socks) I’d love a pair of those. I’d immortalize Stanley. Not that he needs to be more front-and-center in my life.
The other day I was bopping around Amazon when I saw a mug that read “got milk?” I don’t know why, but I typed “Got Karen” in the search box and up came the above cup. I guess you can buy anything at Amazon. I would have bought it – if nothing else to remind me to find my brain in the morning before I start work – but the little darling was $20.00. I don’t think so.
Anyway, on the same search page was this cup – “I’m sorry you’re old.” That cracked me up, and so did the very next item. I guess the “I’m sorry you’re old” cup led to the next logical product – mattress protectors.
I’d love to figure out Amazon’s algorithms one of these days.
Just for grins I typed in sexy in the Amazon search box. This is what I got – with a label of “musical instruments”.
It is to laugh as Daffy Duck would say. (Or was it Bugs Bunny?)