We’re renters. And homeowners. It’s kind of an insane situation that partly involves me wishing an asteroid would just land on the house we own in another city. Luckily, we love the house we’re renting. For the most part, I also love my landlords.
The thing is, they’re older. And a little old fashioned, and have a little bit of a tendency to call me on the last day of every month to let me know they’re on their way over to pick up the rent and did I remember that it’s due? (As if it’s some new thing in the universe that rent is due on the first.) Also they don’t understand how modern appliances work.
A couple of months ago the washer shit the bed, so they replaced it and the janky dryer that didn’t actually dry my clothes. It was sweet of them to take care of it, but they bought a used set that absolutely sucks, primarily because the dryer can only be set for a maximum time of 30 minutes, five of those minutes being the “cool down” or “completely useless” period. I let them know that it takes (no joke) two and a half hours at the very least to dry one medium load.
“Oh, hon,” my landlady said (with a you dumb shit but helpful tone of voice), pulling a pair of my jeans out of the dryer. “Here’s the problem — you’re not supposed to do jeans or towels in a dryer.”
So they lovingly installed a huge clothesline in the back yard for me.
Cause I like wearing sandpaper and drying my ass with cardboard. And I have tons of free time. And it doesn’t rain much in Florida during storm season.
Sigh.
I’ve dealt with the set until now, but a few hours ago the washing machine simply stopped working. It’s full of hot soapy water. I have a soaking wet comforter now. And I have almost 30 people coming over tomorrow for the baby sprinkle pot luck karaoke showdown we’re hosting for Baby Brother. Plus today was the day I was set to buckle down and wash oodles of onesies and blankets in Purex Free and Clear, followed by folding all the ickle baby clothes and cooing and crying and whatnot.
Clearly I am 33 weeks pregnant, because this is officially The End of the World. I withdraw any and all requests for half-naked gypsy men. Now I just need someone to come out here and fix my fraking washer. Or for my landlords to call me back.
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