10 March 2010
Nice and bright and shiny and very red.
Normally, I love getting spiffy, bright, shiny, very red things. They appeal to my inner 8 year old.
What doesn't appeal to my inner 8 year old is having to get a new washer because the old one decided to die a miserable death mid-load. I don't think appealed to the Spouse Thingy's inner anything to have to get his soaking wet, half washed clothes out of the washer and take them to Dixon's only laundromat to rewash them. Me, I stayed home... Hey, they weren't my clothes. And I was busy. Doing...something. I forget what. But it must have been important.
So yesterday, instead of driving back to Tahoe to give skiing another try, we went appliance shopping. Yes, I made him go with me, you can imagine the sheer joy he felt in having to go multiple places, finding the right one, waiting while the sales clerk started the paperwork, then finding out it might be weeks before it came in. I'm sure he was ecstatic having to go yet another place to find something similar.
But hey, it was about a hundred bucks less, so he had that going for him.
Now if only the tax refund would show up to pay for the whole thing...