Wednesday, February 8, 2012

May


Nope, this is not one of our grandchildren.  Our grandchildren are fun, energetic, and verbal.

This is my dryer. Let's call her May. She works for me.  I should love her, but I don't.  May is a constant reminder of what I have to do--not what I want to do. Lately, she has been anything but energetic.  If she were any slower at getting the clothes dry, she would be considered a washing machine.

I figured May was getting ready to crap out.  Now, it is no secret that I hate doing wash, but it's also no secret that I love shiny new appliances, and I was thinking SCORE!-- new washer and dryer (they have to match, don't they?).

Yesterday, when I put her to work, I smelled smoke!!!   YES!!!

I called Barry to tell him the "sad" news, but before I could get on-line to see if my new "helpers" came in stainless-steel and were stackable, he showed up to save the day and a butt-load of money.
Yip. ee.

You know that exhaust tube that leads from the dryer to the outside?  Well, May's goes up through the wall, through the attic, and into the wild blue yonder. Dayum it is long!  Turns out that tube was packed solid to the brim with soggy dryer lint.  We are talkin' lint from the original homeowners!! I know-ick. 

Congratulations, May. You have many years left to live thanks to Mr. I-can-fix-anything.  Even your annoying "I'm done" buzzer sounds peppy-er. I hope you're happy.

I'm going to go hang out with my oven. She's shiny. I call her Hottie.....



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