"No problem. I'll just hang up all the wet
clothes on my imaginary clothesline."
If only the dryer had sent me a text. But gosh darn it, it didn't. It just stopped working. No advance notice. No warning light. So rude. So inconsiderate. Good thing I put hubby on the case. A regular Dr. Fix-It, he spent the whole afternoon diagnosing the situation online. All I know is, he came home and went into surgery in the laundry room, unplugging things, jiggling stuff, removing important dryer-type organs, putting them back in, and after about an hour or so, the patient came out of the anesthesia in perfect working order. Yet another miracle, courtesy of Dr. Fix-It. No, you can't hire him. He's on my payroll, bitches. Find your own repairman.
Having a qualified repairman on exclusive contract is more important than having an executive chef as the maids of the mansion get bitchy when they don't have the proper tools in good working order. And popular tv shows for years have documented the consequences of an unhappy maid in da house.I don't blame you for refusing to share.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad you understand me. As the old blues song goes, "Ladies be wise... keep your mouth shut... don't advertise your man."
DeleteAlthough... I just did that! Doh!
ReplyDelete