Backhoe - June 22, 2006
"Harry* thinks we need to buy a backhoe now," commented my husband's cousin at the wedding reception table. We were catching up with family news. Harry and Shawna* had moved into their own "money pit" this past year, escaping suburbia for rural New Jersey. As is often the case, there were a few little surprises in store for them at their new residence, including the state of the septic system, hence, the backhoe. Having enjoyed his experience with the borrowed machinery, Harry felt they should own their very own backhoe, in the event of another ditch-digging emergency.
We laughed at the preposterous idea, while at the same time commiserating that there were costly tools in our very houses that our men had purchased so they could be prepared for just about anything. Shawna laughed, "If I pull out both racks of my dishwasher at the same time, the whole kitchen tilts." Appliances used daily limp along while specialized drill bits gather dust in the garage.
My mother-in-law fares no better. While visiting recently, I could not get her dishwasher to start. "Oh, you have to lean against the door with your hip and jab the start button hard with the handle of a knife, " she instructed.
Our fifteen-year-old refrigerator, opened about a zillion times a day, is held together with packing tape. The interior is a cave without illumination, since the lights long ago stopped working. I hate to think what lurks in the dark corners. While I'm on the refrigerator, why is it that the little plastic shelves, which break off like saltine crackers, cost as much to replace as a new refrigerator?
My washing machine, which runs continuously, lasted fifteen years with several replacements of the agitator spline. It was a good machine, if you did not mind the sound of a jet engine just off your kitchen. It finally died from an overload of sheets and towels, and I stood agonizing over the models in the showroom. After much soul searching, I thought of Harry's backhoe, and bought the most expensive one I could afford.
Copyright Cathy Alger, 2006.
We laughed at the preposterous idea, while at the same time commiserating that there were costly tools in our very houses that our men had purchased so they could be prepared for just about anything. Shawna laughed, "If I pull out both racks of my dishwasher at the same time, the whole kitchen tilts." Appliances used daily limp along while specialized drill bits gather dust in the garage.
My mother-in-law fares no better. While visiting recently, I could not get her dishwasher to start. "Oh, you have to lean against the door with your hip and jab the start button hard with the handle of a knife, " she instructed.
Our fifteen-year-old refrigerator, opened about a zillion times a day, is held together with packing tape. The interior is a cave without illumination, since the lights long ago stopped working. I hate to think what lurks in the dark corners. While I'm on the refrigerator, why is it that the little plastic shelves, which break off like saltine crackers, cost as much to replace as a new refrigerator?
My washing machine, which runs continuously, lasted fifteen years with several replacements of the agitator spline. It was a good machine, if you did not mind the sound of a jet engine just off your kitchen. It finally died from an overload of sheets and towels, and I stood agonizing over the models in the showroom. After much soul searching, I thought of Harry's backhoe, and bought the most expensive one I could afford.
Copyright Cathy Alger, 2006.
posted by Junosmom | 5:15 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home