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Posts Tagged ‘shirts’

We found our house on the internet.  I fell in love with the picture of this  bungalo on a large pond, with woods all around.  What we found was that bugs come in the house, from those woods, when it starts getting cold. The second storey was built over the walk-out basement without removing the existing roof.  Hence, our floor creeks like it has ghosts and has a ridge in the kitchen floor.

I really like this house from the outside, and we still love our 3.7 acres, but inside is a different matter and being on a fixed income it is inevitable that everything is breaking down over time.  The latest is the circuit to the air-conditioner, but before that, it was the washer and dryer.

Since my mother lived with us for several years before moving to her own apartment, we have found ourselves with duplicate appliances. It is nice to have a spare occasionally, but mom’s washer/dryer were a stacking set and these things are notorious for problems. It was worked on numerous times the first year or two of its life then it settled into random problems. First, anything but a full load of water would overflow.  So, if you had a half load to wash, you had to set it on full and waste that water. Then, the dryer started squeaking and you could not dry clothes after anyone went to bed because it would wake them up with it’s Chinese water torture squeak.

It was no surprise when the dryer went completely.  My dryer was brought in from my studio and set beside the stacking set. So, now you wash in the stacking set and dry in the single dryer. That is, unless you are half asleep.

Gaffer got home late one night from work, and being a fry cook, had really greasy white shirts to wash, put them in the dryer and pushed the on button, walked away without realizing the dryer was not running.

Next morning, he stumbles into the laundry room and realizes his shirts were not dry.

I think he needs to get more sleep.

“Darn” (sure, that’s what he said.)  Blinking dryer. I’m going to have to wear a wet shirt. I have one clean shirt and it’s heavyweight and it’s over 100 here in Indiana. “Darn, Darn,Darn.”

He put on the last shirt, started the dryer again and left for work.

He did not check the dryer when he worked a long shift and came home late. Morning came and the dryer still did not dry his shirts.

It was with good humor, that he told me that evening, that he realized, for two days he had been trying to dry his shirts in the stacking unit, which was broken.

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I am mostly upright now and have left the walker in the corner.  When these things strike, it surely gives me more sympathy for mom, who uses a walker all the time.  What a great invention.   However, the pain pills and massive Ibuprophen to bring the swelling down, are not doing nice things to my stomach. 

During my visit with Master’s Daughter, thank goodness pre-hurt the back day, I had a grand old time when invited to shop with grandson and Master’s Daughter for Grandson’s birthday.  He’s a Hollister & Co guy. 

He was once chased down the aisle of the mall, by a Hollister employee.  They caught up with him and told him that the boss had seen him walk by and wanted to offer him a job as he looked like he belonged there.  Thank goodness, I thought that hair just hung in his eyes so he could avoid looking at the world. 

 How to be Cool Over 40 « XUP, with her blog about being cool over 40, reminded me about my day at the mall and looking for cool clothing with Hollister Guy.  He has grown a couple of eight inches since he was offered a job and they no longer carry clothing as long as he wants there.  And, my suggestion to check the tall men’s shop was met with a scathing look, that said, “You are so NOT cool!”

We stopped in for several shirts, all of his shirts say Hollister and I noted to myself “Christmas gift” until I found out that not every Hollister Shirt is equal.  One shade of orange is definitely cooler than the other shade.  The wave on the front is not as cool as just words.  And,one pair of size 32/30 pants (because they do not come any longer) is definitely NOT as good as the identical pair of 32/30 pants that either his mother, or I pulled out.  Once, one whole time out of the afternoon, I got to say, “I knew that.”  I had picked the right one. 

Maybe I am so “Not so much NOT cool” after all.

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