Febjulybruary?

Category: dribblings

RATED ‘R’ FOR CREATIVE SWEARING.

Excuse me while I whine about my first-world, spoiled American problems.

Our dishwasher broke today.

It was really old, early ’90s maybe? So it wasn’t a surprise or anything. Still, a huge annoyance in that I had just loaded that thing down. I mean, it was an award-winning load job. I freakin’ Tetris-ed that thing.

I turned the dishwasher on and: kaput.

Then I had to unload it and  use a coffee cup to scoop out the gallon or so of water that was standing in the bottom. This took forever because in the bottom of the dishwasher is this big plastic spinny thing, and also the heat element, so it was impossible to get a good scoop of water. It took approximately 43,000 half scoops.

Laura pointed out that at least it didn’t break in such a way that it flooded my kitchen floor. I told her to keep her “half full” bullshit to herself.

No, I didn’t.

So it’s not that big of a deal. I mean, we can live without one for a bit. It’s not like I’m too good for dishes. But there is still a bit of water in the bottom that I can’t get to, and I’ve even used a towel. I want the damn thing out before it starts to stink or something. But I can’t take it out without putting a new one in (it’s a built-in). So we’re in a holding pattern at the moment. I was actually fine with this, just a bit annoyed. I even thought about doing the dishes old school for a month and seeing if there was a difference in the water bill.

Then I asked Mr. Fleegan how much we’re getting back in taxes this year. Sure, it would have been nice to do something fun with the money, but hey, these things happen.

He told me we weren’t getting anything back, and in fact, we owed money. This, this is what broke me.

“We owe?”

“We owe.”

“How? How is that- well how much? It couldn’t be much.”

“It is.”

“No way, I make nothing. They can’t POSSIBLY- how much?”

“The price of a new dishwasher.”

WHAT IN THE COCK-EATING, MOTHER-SLAPPING, PISS-FUCKING SHIT BRICK DO YOU MEAN? NO WAY. NO SHIT-SMEARING WAY. I ONLY MAKE JACK-HUMPING, BITCH SLAP, DONKEY-PUNCHING, TRASH FILTH SCUM BUCKET, MINIMUM GODDAMN WAGE. IT’S BAD ENOUGH WE HAVE TO BUY A NEW COCKING DISHWASHER, BUT YOU’RE TELLING ME WE HAVE TO BUY ONE FOR THE GUBMINT TOO?

Yes.

FUCK.

Also, donkey punching?

DON’T ASK.

***

I have calmed down a bit. I got to hang out with some pals this afternoon. This evening Mr. Fleegan and I went to Lowe’s to look at some ass vapor, bed-wetting, anus-hurting dishwashers. We came home and ate a sensible dinner. Then we washed a shit-ton of dishes, old school. Which led to me maniacally cleaning the kitchen in that whole “Well, at least I can control the 409 bottle.” kind of way.

***

The dishwasher thing wasn’t surprising, it had to happen sometime. But the taxes was a sucker punch. A big booger-flicking, junk-slapping, anal- leaking, frog-gigging, vomit-eating, piece of shit-tossing sucker punch.

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