I’ve neglected this blog so long, I have that biblical refrain running through my head:
“If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither, let my tongue cleave to my palate if I do not remember you . . . .”
(Psalm 137, v. 5-7)
If I forget thee, O Zone, let my writer’s fingers and voice wither. I’ve been exploring the wilds of Facebook. It’s been a learning experience, both good and bad. I am enjoying staying in closer contact with my immediate and extended family across the world. I’ve delighted in re-connecting with high school and college friends. I am annoyed by all the little apps and games, which are a big distraction. Time to get back to blogging and baring my maternal soul.
Many of you will recall the trials and tribulations of my GE appliances. I ditched my GE washer and dryer more than 2 years ago, in favor of Whirlpool’s then-new Cabrio line. I have enjoyed the Cabrios greatly until this morning. When I returned home from coffee with Calvin and Belle, I found the washer beeping an error code at me. Of course, it wasn’t an error code listed in the washer’s instruction book. It was a mystical error code, only decipherable by Whirlpool.
You know what that meant: a phone call to Whirlpool Customer No-Service. Woo. hoo. not. After 10 minutes “talking” to the automated system that didn’t understand my address, I enjoyed the Whirlpool Easy Listening Concerto in B-flat until an agent answered the phone. She was actually friendly, even though she confirmed that F-1 meant a motor control assembly problem — verified first by me on the Internet, while waiting, thankyouverymuch — and not what I was REALLY thinking. Ms. Friendly offered to book a service appointment for me, but I declined in favor of my local service company, which has all my appliances under contract.
The service company will come on Monday. In the meantime, I have to pack three kids and myself for a weekend away. We’re going to a Bar Mitzvah in Orlando and a spring training baseball game this weekend. Wizard’s clothes are in the broken washer, and — of course — he has nothing else clean to wear. Gee, when you keep all your laundry and clothing on the floor instead of in the dresser and closet, you never know what’s clean. Wizard didn’t want to wear his suit because . . . wait for it . . . it’s wrinkled and full of cat hair! Why??? Oh, you know the answer: it was lying on the closet shelf, a cat bed, instead of hanging up in a zippered suit bag. Bravo, you foul child.
Now, I rush to pack my own clothes. Wild Thing claims to have brought all his down to pack. Moose never knows what the hell he has because he subscribes to the Wizard School o Clothing Care (everything on the floor). I picked up a couple things for Moose at Target this morning. As soon as I’m done packing, I’ll race to Kohl’s or Beall’s to get Wizard some clothes.
Oh, everywhere in Florida the sun is shining bright.
The iPod plays here somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere moms are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in The Testosterone Zone — mighty Alto2 has struck out.
(Apologies to E.L. Thayer)