I’ve got a bad case of dreaded writer’s block. This is what happens to me when my world is spinning at a pace much like that of the Earth’s rotation, a mere 1037.5646 miles per hour. My brain, the axis, is slowly firing neurons by the end of a bustling week like this. Thus, I can’t think to speak clearly let alone write.
Here’s the kind of week I’ve had…My washer died last Friday. Water wasn’t draining or filling the machine properly. A service repairman explained that the part could be here in four business days. Excellent – I couldn’t wait to wait through the weekend + three days to get this thing delivered to my porch. The next available service appointment was, of course, ten days out. I guess they safely estimate those dates so as to include any shipping difficulties of these ridiculous parts that break way too frequently. He even told me his conspiracy theory that appliance companies cheaply manufacture these parts and ask consumers to spend big money on these extended warranties in hopes that they won’t buy them and will opt to just buy new appliances when their old ones break down versus paying through the nose for cheaply made parts and expensive labor. I agree with him.
I was proud of dear hubby for opting for the extended warranty when we purchased this thing three years ago as the cost of it covered the labor and the part! In the meantime, I absolutely dreaded dragging all this stuff and a baby to a Laundromat and sitting there for hours. I even got quotes for a pay by the pound laundry facility – a cool concept which may actually make my weeks less hairy in the future. After days of adding to our laundry hill only to create a laundry mountain, a dear friend offered to let me use her machine. We’ll call her Madge. Madge made me a much needed afternoon cup of Joe, and I took her some coconut pie (naturally I brought a piece for myself, too). She let my baby come over, crawl around her home, show us how un-baby proofed it was, and she even danced with him, read to him, and made him giggle. He adores Madge almost as much as I do. I lugged a large basket and bag into her laundry room and proceeded to do two (which should have been three) loads of laundry while two more patiently waited in my mommy bus (it’s not a mini van).
The buzzer finally went off on the second load, and I walk into her laundry room only to find my socks sopping wet and a puddle on the floor seeping out from under her washer and growing larger and larger. I had broke Madge’s machine, too! WHAT is wrong with me? UGH…
What an upsetting moment. I felt so very bad to have had someone as sweet as Madge lend me her machine and her time (she took a study break to let me come over and turn her world off its axis). Thankfully her repairman was able to come the next day, and her machine is under warranty, too. BUT of course, the part needed to repair her seeping machine has a three day wait…Oh, Madge, I am so very sorry. You are so dear.
All of this said, when life hands me lemons like this (seriously, my washer just might be a lemon), I get so uptight, annoyed, bothered, unfocused, and tired. Not to mention emotional, nearing the brink, frustrated, and mad. I let those emotions take over other parts of my life, and I am really bad about not just making the darn lemonade. I’d much prefer a Tom Collins. Thankfully the part arrived today, and a repair appointment was made for tomorrow. Perhaps I should celebrate...
I guess that overused saying, “Don’t sweat the small stuff,” should be my mantra, but isn’t it hard to not think the small stuff is actually big stuff sometimes? I know that my washer will be fixed, and I am grateful to even have a washer. With three kids (well, four, if you count my continuously changing dear hubby and his fancy t-shirts) I need a washer! Feeling blocked and slowed down against my will is the pits. Few things are worse than waiting during that four-hour window that a repairman is supposedly coming to your home. Guess I should be humbled and grateful, especially for friends like Madge. Cheers to her! I think I’ll make her a Tom Collins and maybe a whole pie just for her this time.