Have you ever noticed that when something goes wrong, it usually goes wrong as dramatically as possible?
Here’s an example: when one’s washing machine dies, it will do so before the spin cycle so that not only does one have a tub of completely soaked laundry out of which one has to attempt to wring the water, but as a bonus, one also has to manually bail the water out of the dead washer.
Why do I use this example? Oh, no reason . . .
Further escalating the situation would be the fact that the old dryer is hard-wired into the wall and one has to get an electrician to come out and disconnect it and install a plug before one’s sparkling new “laundry center” can be delivered, And then one has to fight with the condo office about the delivery date of said sparkling new laundry center. Apparently one needs an act of Congress to be allowed to sully the sacred loading dock and actually having something delivered. Cripes.
But like I said, this is all just a hypothetical situation.
Lucy has reason to bitch and moan, because she was subjected to a trip to the vet today (just a check-up). She spent a good part of the rest of the day doing this:
And despite hypothetical homeowner hijinks which have diverted my attention away from knitting, I did manage to finish the back of Keelan.
Alert the media.