Last week at the end of Fall Break, I posted about our lovely, restful fun time at the lake. Beautiful weather, congenial company, etc., etc. and a good time was had by all....
And now--for the rest of the story.
Molly and I rode home together on Sunday morning. She started out reading and quickly became carsick. Luckily not throw-up carsick, just miserable carsick. So we had no meaningful conversation. I always look forward to our rides together cause it's the only time we get to talk with no interruptions so I was disappointed but understanding.
We pulled into the driveway (after furtively passing the church--parking lot filled with cars, how unnatural not to be there!). I told Les that Molly would help in a little bit with the unloading but she needed to lie down for a few minutes cause she was carsick.
He said, "Well, you're gonna be sick in a minute too."
Les: "The freezer door was open and everything is thawed."
Sure enough everything was thawed! So, into the trash went fresh peaches, bags of chicken breasts and shrimp, unidentifiable stuff (I really needed to clean that out anyway!) and, three bags of trash, and a couple of hours later, the freezer was clean and it was time to start 'camp clean-up.'
Load after load of jeans, sweatshirts and bedding went from the washer to the dryer to the closets and cabinets. Bag after bag of leftover food was emptied and the contents shoved into cabinets. Games were put away. Books and magazines were reshelved. We cooked one of those thawed roasts (they were still really cold) for supper and had 'homemade' bread from the freezer and declared it good--though exhausting.
Wednesday morning, I dragged myself out of bed to the kitchen. Wednesdays are eternally long days. We have faculty meetings on Wednesdays, I had a hair appointment that day after school, and we are at church on Wednesday evenings till at least 8:30.
So anyway, I go to the laundry room, to get food for the cat and dog. My bleary eyes slide by the washer where it appears that an alien has invaded my home and used my washer to make 30 dozen scrambled eggs. My brain registers this yellow sight, but I don't comprehend until I go to the kitchen and am attempting to find coffee. (Thank you to whoever invented the programmable coffee maker). Slowly I realize that it could not possibly be scrambled eggs in my washer.
I replay the last moments before bed the night before and recall putting a yellow vellux blanket in the washer. Yes, we are still doing laundry from camping. (Laundry, the gift that keeps on giving) I return to the laundry room and look in the washer and see a big piece of netting and tiny bits of yellow foam-y stuff in there. The remains of our vellux blanket. I have to confess that Les and I really don't like that blanket but the girls love it. It was a wedding gift and almost 23 years old so I guess it just gave up the ghost, so to speak. So the whole point of this is, it was not only Wednesday, the longest day of the week, but I also had to clean out the washer. When I pulled the contents out into a trash can, not only did the bits of fuzz fall into the trash, they filled the air, spilled over the edge of the bag, slid under the washer and dryer and basically made a damp fuzzy mess. So THEN I had to vacuum..... Once the washer dried out, Les finished the vacuuming of billions of yellow fuzz bits stuffed in the nooks and crannies of the washer.
So now it's Sunday. Sarah says, Come here Mom, I want to show you something. Now normally this means she wants me to see a new piece of artwork or a new piece of clothing or something usually good. But not today. Today she headed toward the garage. I was worried she wanted to show me a new dent in her car.
She opened the little fridge where we keep Cokes in the garage and displayed a coke can, split down the side. And look--all over the inside of the fridge and onto the garage floor are the contents of the coke can--evidently frozen and spewed. So now I get to clean out the fridge.
So I'm asking you---why? why me? Why do my appliances hate me so? Why are they demanding to be cleaned? Can't they just sit there, motors humming, doing their jobs and keeping to themselves?
And now you know: The REST of the Story. Except for the part I forgot about the scorpion behind the freezer. EEK! Stomp! Dead. The End.
Many stories herein are subject to the faulty, and sometimes creative, memory of the blog owner and should not be taken as factual, although the names and events are real! Kind of.