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!
I got married today. Well, not exactly today. It was Friday, June 2. But the year was 1989 - 17 years ago. "Amazing", people say. "Good for you", they comment. "You must have picked the right one", the add. Amazing? Yes. Good for me? I'll admit it. But it has nothing to do with picking the right one, really. It's not because I found the perfect boy, and it's certainly not because he found the perfect girl. It might sound a little unromantic, but there never really is a 'right one' floating around out there waiting in the cosmos for the other 'right one' to crash and connect. There may be 'better ones'; there may be 'more easily compatible' or something or other. But the real story is you start becoming the right one the moment you vow that "you do". When I married, I had been 20 for a whole 33 days, we had just completed a 2-year long-distance realtionship and HE was five years older tha...
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