There seems to be a misconception (in my imagination) that I live a charmed life. In this charmed life, everything goes my way, my house is clean, the laundry is folded, the dishwasher is emptied, I have lots of engaging and interesting work, my clothing is fashionable yet not trendy, every day is a good hair day, one of my eyes isn’t bigger than the other. And everything works.
That’s all fantasy. None of it’s true. None.
My house like the morning after a frat party, my laundry ‘cycle’ (sort, wash, fold, put away) takes two weeks, dishes seem to morph into non-toppling towers of Pisa, my clothes consist of sweatpants and things I shrank, my hair well… (it seems my bangs are too short and I look like a Polly Pocket. And they’re not growing. They seem to be getting shorter on their own.). And one of my eyes is definitely bigger than the other (do you want to hear about my health problems? No, I didn’t think so.) And nothing works. The things I can find, that is.
I live in The House Where Everything Breaks or Gets Misplaced.
Let’s make a list, shall we, of what’s broken or lost at my house.
Note: I don’t have an exhaustive list of all that cannot be found because I don’t know I can’t find it until I need it and start looking for it.
- Globally, everything. Let’s start with anything nice that I got for my wedding. There’s nary an attractive piece of giftware or a glass salsa server to be seen. Also, my garage doors, the windows at the front of the house, and at least one wine glass, a plate, and two drinking glasses per week. And the ligaments on my son’s right hand (they call us a frequent flyer family at the local hand clinic.) In addition, I don’t know where the anythings are.
- My car. First I broke it and I got it back. Then the roof started leaking. Have you ever had an ice cold shower made of snow melt come down on you while you turned a corner?
- My dishwasher. Stopped working last week. Which was a non-issue because nobody loads it or empties it anyways. Guess how many olive pits were in the dishwasher filter. Just guess. And then explain to me how that many olive pits got into my dishwasher.
- My gel manicure. See above.
- Almost my washing machine. See above. Luckily, when the repairman was here to fix the dishwasher he had a look at my washing machine. Did you know there are little holes in the rubber ring that seals the front of a front loader that can get plugged up with hair and fabric residue?
- My Fridge. The third fridge we’ve had in 15 years. It has ice in all kinds of strange places that aren’t an ice maker. I’m afraid to have someone look at it. I can’t take any more bad news about my large appliances.
- My Magic Bullet. The blender attachment melted in the dishwasher (before it broke) so the lid doesn’t fit anymore which doesn’t matter because I lost the lid. I still
wearmake my smoothies every morning anyways. I look good in purple.
- My food processor. This one *could* be my fault . Things break when you drop them on the floor.
- My breadmaker. I am a person who actually uses their small appliances. Luckily, Hamilton Beach sent me a new one. I was very upset when it stopped working while I was making a Challah for company. I called that creation ‘wet ball of sticky mush’.
- TWO (not one) cellphone screens. Both of my sons have shattered cell phone screens. It’s not teen abuse if they get shards of glass in their ears, is it?
- The make-your-own K Cups thingies for the Keurig. I have SIX of these little cup things so I can use my own ground coffee. Oh, small tiny accessories, where for art thou?
- My $50 gift certificate to The Bay. GONE. Baby Gone. I wanted to buy something but the Borrowers took it (The Borrowers are my husband who likes to ‘clean up’ – see the first point about the frat house – and then can’t remember where he ‘organized’ everything.)
- My corkscrew. This one is a real problem. My wine opener that I know how to use broke. You know, the ones with the arms? Now we only have the one that Sommeliers use (this twisty thing you pull), which I am not coordinated enough figure out. So I have to ask my 14-year old son to open the wine. He’s really good at it.
- My favourite spatula. I had a really good silicone spoon spatula that was all-kinds of awesome. Unfortunately, I tried to use it for a purpose for which it wasn’t made and the handle snapped. I can’t find it, so I can’t replace it. It’s the small things that count.
- My built-in double wall ovens. The top oven always thinks there’s a probe in there, and just keeps beeping and beeping and beeping. I don’t even know what the probe is. I think it’s a meat thermometer. I haven’t seen that probe since we bought the ovens 15 years ago.
- Our old smoke alarm. We have the awesomeness of Rogers Smart Home Monitoring, but our old unit still thinks it has the power. Ever vigilant, it likes to go off when you cook really (insert sarcasm) smoky things like one piece of turkey bacon.
- My workout shoes. They have holes in them. And I can’t find my size for new ones anywhere. Don’t they make weight training shoes in a size 7? Or maybe it’s that stores don’t order more than one pair in the most popular size.
- My diamond bracelet that was bought with the insurance money I got for the bracelet I lost. Luckily I saw this one falling off. I think my insurance company doesn’t think I’m a very good risk.
- My watch. The battery died and there’s a very poky pin sticking out of the side of it.
So, yeah. As you can see, all is not sunshine and roses for me. As long as my macbook is good, I’m happy though. (knock wood, throw salt over your shoulder…)
Did I make you feel really good about your life?