As I mentioned before, I love our house! The cute gingerbreadness of it warms my heart. The bath tub makes me happy. The booth-like table makes me feel homey. Our house is wonderful.
However...
I have a tale of woe, of terror, of disgust, and death. I call it the Tale of the Flies and How They Died or Shea's Amazingly Wonderful Husband Who Loves Her Enough To Kill A Million Flies In Order To Keep Her Happy and Home.
This is the tale.
Once in a far away city called Aurora, a beautiful maiden lived in a small, cute gingerbread house with the love of her life. Their life was happy and simple. They both loved their life, their house, and each other. What could possibly come into their bliss?
Unbeknownst to the happy couple a deadly enemy was hatching an evil plot to rid their home of its happiness. And one day, like Wraiths in the Pegasus Galaxy, they appeared in far greater numbers than any person could possibly imagine. The enemy was the fly. And it had created an army of thousands. (Ok, poetic licence, but at least thirty.) The flies invaded the peaceful, loving home and began to congregate on the windows of the cute gingerbread house.
The beautiful maiden could not handle it and cried to her love to save her. He at once returned home armed with a fly swatter, good looks, and amazing courage. Calmly assuring his love that all would be well, he battled the monsters until only a few remained. The rest littered the floor of the beautiful house until her love disposed of the dead bodies. (I suppose in most stories, the woman should help in this chore of tending to the dead; however, that is not the case in this story. The fair maiden would not go near the dead. They were disgusting.) And so her love vanquished the enemy, but for a few survivors. He then cleaned up the mess of bodies, and the house returned to tranquility and happiness. For one day.
The next day, the enemy again overran the house. And again the handsome love heroically saved his darling from the forces of evil. They both slept that evening with the thought of an enemy-free home. They were sure that no enemy would dare enter their abode again because the swift vengeance of the man would be swift.
The next day, the fair maiden unsuspectingly returned home to her cute, gingerbread house. She was prepared to be a good wife to her love and clean the house and make dinner and have a happy, peaceful home again. However, the poor girl was walking into a trap. As soon as she opened the door, she was confronted with the horrible beasts lazily lounging on the windows. Faced with this horror and no man to rescue her, for her love was not home for another few hours, the maiden did what she does best when faced with a crisis. She cried. And cried. And ran through the house to a safe haven in the bedroom. But still the thought of the monsters in the other room horrified her. And so she gathered her small amount of courage and raced through the infested house to the car outside. She then drove away to safety at the library. Calling her love, she told him that she had fled their home in terror at the monsters. He assured her that he would rescue her again. When he arrived home, he took is vengeance out on the beasts. His vengeance was swift and terrible. Soon, barely a beast was alive in the home. Not only that, but the loving husband also cleaned the house and made preparations for his lady's return.
When she did return, the house was free of the monsters. She greeted her love with much love and thanks for the rescue.
The following days the beasts began to diminish. And finally the handsome, brave hero beat the enemy once and for all. The maid and the hero took a trip to a hardware store and bought a special spray that neutralized the enemy. From that day forward, the enemy was greatly weakened and only a few stragglers remained alive. Those were easy for the hero to defeat one by one throughout the next days.
In fact, as the maiden sat writing at the computer tonight, a monster attacked her, trying to land on her head and on her computer. But she called to her love who rushed to her rescue, killed the beast, removed it from her lap and laughed. She, on the other hand whimpered the whole time, until her brave, loving man had saved her from the disgusting, dangerous, and demonic enemy the fly.
The cute gingerbread house was returned to its state of peace and tranquility and happiness, with our fair maiden and her love living without the fear of invasion.
And that is the tale of woe and hope that is laid before you today.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
The Joys of Home Owning Part I
Our house is absolutely perfect. Mostly.
I love how colorful and homey it is (particularly when it is clean). I love how comfy our couch is. I love how there are a million books spilling all over my bookshelves. I love how our DVD player is pink. I love our Elvis picture hanging in our kitchen. I love my red tea kettle.
Although I love our house, problems do come along with being a homeowner.
About a month ago, our washing machine decided that the spin cycle was overrated and unnecessary, so it quit. I went to pull out the laundry to find it completely soaked. As I wrestled it out of the washer, water dripped down my hands back into the soggy machine. After doing several loads like this, I realized that not only was this contrary to what a washing machine was suppose to do, it also was horrible for our dryer. To compensate for the overly wet clothing, I would haul them to the dryer in the garage and put them on a cycle. I would then come out again in 45 minutes, only to find them still wet. I would then put them through another cycle. If I was lucky it would be dry after two; however, some required three rounds in our dryer.
Finally, I determined that this was not productive - and it was a waste of money and energy. So, my darling husband and I decided it was time to spend the $150 and buy a used washing machine.
Oh joy! Oh bliss! When my very buff husband and father finally situated the new washing machine in its proper place (with many manly grunts, of course), I reveled in the new (well, new to me) washing machine. For two days I was in heaven. My new washing machine loved the spin cycle. It cleaned clothes. You could tell what setting you were putting your clothes on. (Our old washing machine's nob had fallen off, leaving me guessing every time whether I was doing delicate or cotton.) The new to me washing machine was amazing.
One beautiful day, a few days later, I was being a good housewife. I grabbed a load of laundry, shoved them (lovingly of course) into the washing machine, excitedly turned the knob to the right setting and went about cleaning the kitchen. Thinking myself so clever for putting the laundry in first so that it could run while I did other things, I scrubbed dishes. A few minutes later, as I was scrubbing, I noticed an odd odor. Hesitantly, I went to investigate.
Although I am no match for Gus's Super Sniffer, I did manage to find the source of the smell. As I walked down our very short hall, I smelled the smell even stronger. Pushing open the door which conceals our washing machine, I was greeted with smoke billowing and pouring out from my brand new-to-me machine. Although horrified, I responded with amazing wits and pulled the knob to stop the load. My soul was in anguish. How could this happen to my beautiful, new-to-me washer? What was going to happen?
When my groom returned home I quickly explained what had happened. Being the wonderful man that he is, he comforted me and assured me that we would figure it out.
A few days later and a few phone calls later, we found out that we could bring it back to the store and could get a replacement.
Oh happy day!
But wait! Oh sad day! The washing machine was filled with half-washed clothing and was full of water. Thus began the long process of transferring sopping clothes from the washer to the dryer in small amounts, running the dryer a million times, and then (my favorite) scooping out the water and throwing it on our dead lawn using a coffee mug and a bucket. Finally, it was done. My incredibly strong husband, with the help of our neighbor (because I was too weak) loaded the washing machine on Susie Q, and Luke headed off. A few hours later Luke returned bearing a wonderful present! Another new-to-me washing machine! This time I mustered my strength and helped him haul in the new washing machine. We got it installed and I tentatively ran a first cleansing cycle. Oh glory! It worked!
I now have another brand-new-to-me washing machine that has a knob, spins, and doesn't smoke. It is amazingly wonderful! Not only that, but I also have caught up on all my laundry that had piled up over the period of no washing machine! (Catching up included an enormous folding party with myself. I had a huge mound sitting on the couch. I folded it while watching Northanger Abbey which made it fun!)
That is one of the glories of home ownership, or I suppose I should say washing machine ownership.
I love how colorful and homey it is (particularly when it is clean). I love how comfy our couch is. I love how there are a million books spilling all over my bookshelves. I love how our DVD player is pink. I love our Elvis picture hanging in our kitchen. I love my red tea kettle.
Although I love our house, problems do come along with being a homeowner.
About a month ago, our washing machine decided that the spin cycle was overrated and unnecessary, so it quit. I went to pull out the laundry to find it completely soaked. As I wrestled it out of the washer, water dripped down my hands back into the soggy machine. After doing several loads like this, I realized that not only was this contrary to what a washing machine was suppose to do, it also was horrible for our dryer. To compensate for the overly wet clothing, I would haul them to the dryer in the garage and put them on a cycle. I would then come out again in 45 minutes, only to find them still wet. I would then put them through another cycle. If I was lucky it would be dry after two; however, some required three rounds in our dryer.
Finally, I determined that this was not productive - and it was a waste of money and energy. So, my darling husband and I decided it was time to spend the $150 and buy a used washing machine.
Oh joy! Oh bliss! When my very buff husband and father finally situated the new washing machine in its proper place (with many manly grunts, of course), I reveled in the new (well, new to me) washing machine. For two days I was in heaven. My new washing machine loved the spin cycle. It cleaned clothes. You could tell what setting you were putting your clothes on. (Our old washing machine's nob had fallen off, leaving me guessing every time whether I was doing delicate or cotton.) The new to me washing machine was amazing.
One beautiful day, a few days later, I was being a good housewife. I grabbed a load of laundry, shoved them (lovingly of course) into the washing machine, excitedly turned the knob to the right setting and went about cleaning the kitchen. Thinking myself so clever for putting the laundry in first so that it could run while I did other things, I scrubbed dishes. A few minutes later, as I was scrubbing, I noticed an odd odor. Hesitantly, I went to investigate.
Although I am no match for Gus's Super Sniffer, I did manage to find the source of the smell. As I walked down our very short hall, I smelled the smell even stronger. Pushing open the door which conceals our washing machine, I was greeted with smoke billowing and pouring out from my brand new-to-me machine. Although horrified, I responded with amazing wits and pulled the knob to stop the load. My soul was in anguish. How could this happen to my beautiful, new-to-me washer? What was going to happen?
When my groom returned home I quickly explained what had happened. Being the wonderful man that he is, he comforted me and assured me that we would figure it out.
A few days later and a few phone calls later, we found out that we could bring it back to the store and could get a replacement.
Oh happy day!
But wait! Oh sad day! The washing machine was filled with half-washed clothing and was full of water. Thus began the long process of transferring sopping clothes from the washer to the dryer in small amounts, running the dryer a million times, and then (my favorite) scooping out the water and throwing it on our dead lawn using a coffee mug and a bucket. Finally, it was done. My incredibly strong husband, with the help of our neighbor (because I was too weak) loaded the washing machine on Susie Q, and Luke headed off. A few hours later Luke returned bearing a wonderful present! Another new-to-me washing machine! This time I mustered my strength and helped him haul in the new washing machine. We got it installed and I tentatively ran a first cleansing cycle. Oh glory! It worked!
I now have another brand-new-to-me washing machine that has a knob, spins, and doesn't smoke. It is amazingly wonderful! Not only that, but I also have caught up on all my laundry that had piled up over the period of no washing machine! (Catching up included an enormous folding party with myself. I had a huge mound sitting on the couch. I folded it while watching Northanger Abbey which made it fun!)
That is one of the glories of home ownership, or I suppose I should say washing machine ownership.
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