After two good-sized dinner parties this weekend, the dishwasher died. That sucks. However, Special Agent and I patted each other on the back for wisely carrying appliance protection repair through our natural gas provider. This has come in handy in the past. I called breezily on Monday, only to be informed that somehow, our coverage did not transfer to the new service at this address..TWO YEARS AGO. Fail. I wanted to be angry and snarky, but it wasn't the operator's fault, and I couldn't really insist they cover us when we haven't paid for the service in TWO YEARS. I kind of wanted to snark at Special Agent, since he didn't notice it on the bill, and then I remembered that neither of us has an eye for bill detail and are mostly just glad we remembered to pay them. Frown.
NEVER FEAR! Special Agent and I decided to combine my talent for Google searching with his talent for cursing at inanimate objects, but still no success. The kitchen looked very mechanic-y for a while, but no success. Damn you LG! We are calling in the experts before we have to mortgage the house to continue buying little, tiny parts. I feel a little bad for Special Agent, since he was already sharpening his pencil to add dishwasher repair to his list of "shit I can fix". I still have faith he could do it, but neither one of us wants to continue doing the dishes by hand while we figure it out. Reinforcements....tomorrow at 8 am.
The dining room chair also broke a leg off, which sent me into a furious frenzy, mostly since it hurt my self esteem, electing to fail when I sat on it (I've been working out!). The dining set is only a few years old, and the legs of the chairs have broken steadily since we bought it. I had no idea you could buy a lemon in a furniture store.
In other news, the taller of the Baboos recently got a cell phone. I know, I know, I already gave my self the lecture that she was too young, I wouldn't cave to pressure from knowing allllllllllll the other kids have them, and that I am now introducing my daughter to the debauchery of technology even earlier than necessary. Yeah. I've got all that. I have flashbacks of her in the car seat, talking to my boss on her pretend Elmo phone, saying in a two year old voice,
"no, no, ok"
"Cawll ju back?"
The new cell phone is kind of skinny, just enough that it slides right out of her hand. I bark at her occasionally about this, and then remind myself that I launched it across the kitchen days earlier when I was trying to pick it up and move it to higher ground. SO, a cover is definitely needed.
But not just any. old. cover.
We need to browse the covers for ones with sports teams, cute designs, color variations etc. Sadly, my technological daughter knows about Ebay. I know this because she sat in my ear while I tried to work several days in a row, trying to show me each and every cover she found, lamenting about the trouble searching for her exact phone, and how they could calculate that much shipping for an item that weighs the same as a handful of large paperclips. She is learning a lot.
Finally, I broke down and helped her look through the scads of options, which is what she really wanted me to do in the first place. She settled on this number for $9.95.
|I used my PayPal Account and told her|
it was coming out of her college fund.
|In several years, he will need to add "and viagra" to his sign..|
The 20-something bank operator was a little snarky to me, and obviously has no idea how important I am to Wells Fargo. Ebay didn't even allow me to speak to anyone, just gave me an automated laundry list of the things I needed to send to them in order to dispute the charge (when disputing false credit card charges has it's own listing in the main menu of the automated phone program, that can't be good.).
Post-workout and credit card disputing, in lieu of working today, (or cleaning the house including doing more dishes) I will research and spend more time thinking about my upcoming vacation.
Those two of you that follow the blog religiously (thanks!) will be happy to know that we have finally decided to go to the Dominican Republic for our vacay instead of the dreaded Disney. I know, I know, you Disney lovers. Our kids will be in therapy, blah, blah. I shared my own guilt with Special Agent who agreed he felt REALLY SORRY for the baboos getting to go to a tropical paradise, swim with dolphins, zipline through the jungle and play on the beach. Poor them, says he.
|This is ABSOLUTELY how I look in a bikini...from this distance|
Don't come closer!!
June, are you here yet?