And I managed to get in my workout before the dryer fix-it man arrived. Whew. I didn't relish flapping around in the living room doing my Wii Fit with Mr. Fix-it coming through to get forgotten tools or replacement parts. No one should be forced to witness that, except for Durwood who seems to enjoy it. So now our 33 year old, avocado, electric dryer will live to dry another 30 years, or so he says.
Nice, Jennifer. I don't think I kept my receipt but I'm not willing to risk returning this one anyway. It's pretty old and shopworn, and I'm used to it. I doubt whether it can even be refurbished and sold as used. Lots of miles on this one, and not all easy highway miles either.
October 28--Lucas Cranach the Elder, Pyramus and Thisbe. Sometimes I get so tired of the drama of teenagers. It's somewhat a comfort that teens haven't changed in hundreds and hundreds, probably thousands, of years. They have that strong, bright passion, thinking that never before have people loved as they love. They pen dark poetry about how misunderstood they are, how few, or none, have plumbed the depths of feeling like they have. They rush headlong into things, not stopping to think their way through so that they might avoid a catastrophe or two along the way. Parents would be wise not to forbid them things. The forbidding gives the thing added attraction and can lead to unsuitable spouses and surprise grandchildren, or suicide.
Meh.
--Barbara
No comments:
Post a Comment