I fear the appliances in my life are conspiring against me.
Usually, I know, my conspiracy theroies are relegated to the animal kingdom, but as the bunnies and squirrels are hibernating right now, I fear that the electronic devices, or rather things with a plug, are ganging up on me, and I'm just not okay with it, thankyouverymuch.
The icemaker is broken. Okay, not a big deal, we're moving in two months, where a brand new, spiffy, stainless steel refrigerator will await me and the twenty year old model currently in our kitchen will be relegated to the garage to hold my Diet Coke. So I buy ice. Done. Inconvienient, but done.
The the Shark (dustbuster?) takes a nosedive. Nothing. Hangs on the wall, limp. I have a dog & kids, so that sucker gets used a LOT. But he's dead. Again, not any big deal. I can drag out the big vacuum, right? Wrong. It threw a belt, but seems to still be working other than that, so I'll put that on the Target list and go on.
Then the computer dies (I'll not say more, but that pain is still excruciating and I LOATHE GOOGLE CHAT). Colin, the sexy, black, Toyota Sequoia, has a tire pressure light that won't go off, no matter how much or little air I put into his tires, so I have to drive one of the shop's trucks while it's fixed, which is a Jeep - SO fun in the summer, not so much when it's winter- and THEN the refrigerator starts making shuddering noises reminiscent of the POS that I'm currently sitting next to.
And the washer is cranky, too. He's been coughing and spitting for months. (I'm wondering if I can wrangle a new front loader when we move... ) I swear, if the T.V. goes south, you'll hear the scream from wherever you are.
But Rick Springfield is about to be on Regis and Kelly, so maybe everything will be okay. Plus, if all that is the worst thing in my life, my life is pretty darned awesome, I think.