Our washer died last week. It's been going for awhile-the pump was failing and the water finally couldn't be spun out of the clothes. We bought a new(ish) one. Installed it and it works like a charm.
However, the toilet that we've had for 25 years also needs to be replaced, and so Dad, after much unneeded consideration on the topic, bought a new one the day before we bought the washer.
But the toilet has yet to be installed, and since it's plunked in the superbly tiny bathroom still in the boxes it arrived in, it appears that it won't be getting put in anytime soon.
We have a bit of a problem with the old one. The lid is broken OFF, and Mom doesn't want us to stand with one foot on each side of the edges (it does take some serious balancing) to reach something on the shelves above the toilet. We had to move a box of bandaids down so that we could cover up our injuries without causing more of them by falling off onto the floor. As my sister has deftly put it, "Sometime in here it's going to take a slitch and someone's going to land on the floor."
I've only been up on it a couple of times since it broke off, as I've discovered a new problem that apparently comes with fibro, since Mom has it, too. I have balance issues. I can't stand on one foot anymore without tipping, and if I try to lean on my hands a little bit I wind up trying to catch myself before I fall.
Good thing I don't drink, because last night may have gotten me into trouble if the cops had had a reason to stop the car. I came home smelling like a hops factory accident.
Long explanation for this one: Every year on the 4th, the fireworks in our town are in the big park on the one side of town. This is also the week before Country Fest-that time of the year when a ton of country fans from everywhere descend on our town. They drive badly, they consume much food and drink, and most of them leave large messes when they depart places.
Those sort of people have already arrived, and they made BIG messes in the park last night. Like cans of soda, cans of beer, bottles of soda, bottles of beer, and other things that are recyclable.
We pick them up...everything we can get. Unfortunately a couple of our bags leaked a bit, and so we came home at 11:30 last night smelling like beer. If I'd tried to do the line walking thing for the cops, my terrible balance and booze-smelling clothes would have raised some eyebrows.
Whew. That was a long story. We cleaned up the cans this morning, pulling tabs off for charity and crunching them down flat so they can be recycled. The smell was awful, but it'd have been a lot worse later on if the yeast in those cans had gotten a chance to ferment more.
Yeah, Fest is coming. The town population goes from 10,000 to 40,000 for a couple of weeks, even though Fest doesn't really start until Thursday of this week. We try to avoid the area where the Fest happens if at all possible. It's a nightmare around town the week after July 4th. Great for the retailers, great for the fans, great for the country stars, but terrible for those who don't like country and don't appreciate their town being usurped.
Not much else going on. I'm expecting Dorrance's response beginning tomorrow. Believe me, when I know, you'll know.
Ta,
Bec
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