I skipped the Pumpkin Festival Media dinner last night (and missed out on making small talk with local celebrities like Tony Cavalier - on second thought - that may be a good thing - I may accidentally mention the word "gerbil" and - well - then THAT would be akward... Long story...) so I could stay home and work on my essay for my Modern Poetry class and figure out a paper topic to submit - all due by 9 AM this morning.
So - I go home after work - order a pizza (brain food) and down two large cans of cherry coke. Out of my noggin' pops a slightly crappy essay on "Billy Bill" and even crappier paper topic involving "Bird Boy" and his Naturalistic approach on the uncaring Universe and how we don't matter and the irony that his approach was thwarted by his poetry, recording his life in countless books, accidentally disproving his theory and making him "matter" to the world.
I email my stuff to my prof and go to finish out the last load of laundry. I was multi-tasking - and - I was out of undies that had butts in them.
I go to the laundry hole (it's a kitchen with a hole to the side where my washer and dryer are nestled akwardly) and see that my high class washer, used intermittedly is flashing "CA, CA, CA" at me. So - either it's in need of a vacation to the west coast or it is, once again, f'd up.
I sigh and lift the lid, and there, before my very eyes is my dress clothes, drowning in sudsy water, unable to finish the cleaning process. I hit buttons, smack the lid, push more buttons and finally give up when my hand starts to throb and I can smell the faint odor of a motor burning.
I called Harry. "Hey, I'll be home late tomorrow night. I broke the washer so you'll need to fix it! Okluvubye!"
One of the many joys of marriage: The 'Honey-Do" List!