After 13 years of service, my dishwasher (that I've been hating for the last year) has sprung a leak. Hallelujah! I like the way it looks. I even like how it fits all my stuff in nicely. I just don't like residue. I've been experimenting with different detergents and pre-rinsing and good gravy...I've even taken the dad-blame thing apart twice. Myself. With my Tomboy Tools and the directions I found on the Repair Clinic. I got it all back together too-the right way. But it's just not been working right and I've been whining about it. Muh Main Man has valiantly been ignoring my blubbering, but tonight the sorry thing had mercy on me and sprung a leak. It landed on Muh Main Man's head in the basement and wah-lah...he's commissioned me to pick out a new one tomorrow. Weird that just as the thing is heading out the door, I'm starting to like it!
Depressing: Def., "Realizing that you and your Dearly Beloved are entirely to close to wearing the same pant size. Case in point - Hero Guy came ' har har-ing' out of the bedroom relating that he had accidentally been wearing a pair of my jeans for the last 15 minutes. He wondered why they felt so weird (translated - TIGHT) until he took them off and inspected the tag. He gloated that at least he knows he can fit into a Ladies Size ___ (you really think I'm going to tell you the number?!). My Observations: 1) He had a MONSTER wedgie, so the jeans were entirely too small for him. 2) They are my "fat" jeans, a size bigger than what I actually wear, but I just like the broken-in feeling of them. Or the roominess or something. 3) They were the stretchy kind of jeans, so an elephant could have painted itself into them. 4) What's he bragging about having a girlish figure for anyway? Not very macho if you ask me. Hmph.
Comments