Archive for the ‘family’ Category

Babysitting Chaos   3 comments

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So we finally finished the house. Yeah us!,

 

We got it just the way we always dreamed it could be…it was perfect. Well…apart from the black tile floors.

 

Don’t get me wrong they were stunning…I first met them in the dust free, pet free, humans having a life free …showroom of our local flooring store. I fell in love..so elegant..so rich looking…I just had to have them…..I imagined the statement they would make when I moved them into my home…how they would majestically redefine the hallways, the kitchen, the bathrooms, the family room, laundry room and the staircase…in that moment I felt as though nothing would ever feel so right.
And then the man came and laid my beautiful treasured tile…and in an instant I knew nothing would ever be right again.

 

 

They were a mistake…huge mistake…a huge soul sucking mistake…Did you know that black tile floors expose every single fleck of dirt, dust and hair and magnify them to the power of infinity? I had to up my OCD medication just so I didn’t stand in the corner all day wielding a Swiffer wet jet like lady Macbeth…screaming “Out, damned spot.” It was a thing…I got help…it didn’t help…so we put the house up for sale.

 

 

Yes, you heard me….we decided to move…

 

 

No, not just because of the tile…I mean obviously….we’re not that obsessive….however if questioned in a court of law….I would be unable to deny ….under oath…that it was not not a contributing factor.

 
The truth is we went on a cruise and one of the places we visited was Nova Scotia and we fell in love. Not like the “black tile” love…that ended in betrayal and sadness…but real life affirming this feels like home…love. We jokingly said if there was ever a job opportunity there we would seriously consider moving.

 

 

Never joke…true story…you’re welcome.

 
Now, I’m pretty convinced the Universe eavesdrops on my off the cuff remarks like an ambulance chasing lawyer desperate to have some relevant skin in the game. I could be wrong…but just one week later, we were staring at a job offer that was too good to turn down…and 2 weeks after that we were sitting at our dining room table talking to a realtor about home cost evaluations and curb appeal.

 

 

And just one short month later …contracts were signed, our house was sold and the movers were booked. It was November 25th and in a mere 5 days we would be leaving beautiful British Columbia to start our new adventure in Sydney Nova Scotia.

 

 

You’d think the story would just end there, wouldn’t you? Probably for most people it would. But our family’s freak flag flies torn and tattered and at half mast at least fifty percent of the time so this story is not quite over yet.

 
You see we operate under the assumption that Irony and Bad Luck had a love child (Chaos- its Christian name) and when they want a night off….they leave Chaos at our house for safe keeping.
I remember it as though it were yesterday…it was Friday night and I was watching the news and a story came on about a massive flood in our almost new town of Sydney. I remember thinking it was very sad.

 

 

Now at that time I did not know I was babysitting Chaos….they truly are the worst parents….they never call ahead and make sure I’m free….they just drop him off and run…usually I don’t even know he’s there until it’s too late…and yes I have tried calling child protective services…but the last time I did they just opened a file on me….which I thought was very rude and completely unsupportive.

 

 

Anyway that night as we slept…blissfully unaware that Chaos was in our charge….our dishwasher sprung a leak and by morning our ceiling was buckling and we had 3 inches of water in our basement. It seemed that Chaos wasn’t very sleepy that night so he decided to entertain himself by making our home into a rather sad little water park.

 

We were to close on the sale of our house 6 days later.

 

 

The good news is it all worked out. Not without a modicum of trouble and strife but all things being what they are…for us…business as usual.

 

 

The bad news…It’s the end of this chapter…but don’t worry…I haven’t even got to the good part…so stay tuned…

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I’m not….so maybe you’re not too?   2 comments

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I’ m not a lot of things. In fact, the laundry lists of things that I am not, is quite impressive if I do say so myself. For example I am not a man nor am I pigeon or a particularly skilled athlete. The latter can be attested to by anyone who has ever watched me participate in any activity that requires both my brain and my body to coordinate in any meaningful way.

 

I once dislocated my knee in the 30 seconds it took me to stand up and walk over to the dance floor. True story. Luckily the fellow with whom I had attempted to dance with was able to quickly slam it back into place. He had that skill set. So while I always knew that I shouldn’t walk and chew gum at the same time without a supervising medic, I know have to live with the painful knowledge that just plain walking is not something that I am gifted at.

 

So I’m not coordinated. I own that. I’m fine with it and if I find myself in situations that require me to perform acts that could cause me bodily harm I wear a helmet and make sure my health insurance is current. I like being prepared. That’s my skill set.

Now if I can accept what it is that I am ‘not’ why can’t more people embrace and accept the limits of their own realities?

So what’s lit the fire in my belly that has lead to yet another one of my epic over shares?

Well the answer to that question my friends is simply this: crappy drivers.

 

Just because you can spell the word “car” doesn’t mean should drive one. For example. If you consistently drive in the left lane a minimum of 10km below the posted speed limit, whilst seemingly sharing recipes with the driver keeping pace with you in the right lane. You should both immediately pull over, put your vehicles in park and burn your drivers license and or your cars. Now of course there is no law requiring to do so…but it is fair to say that driving is ‘not’ your thing. It’s ok, no one will judge for accepting this simple truth about yourself.

 

Animals have zero difficulty accepting what they are and aren’t capable of. Case in point, you will probably never see cats teaching quantum physics or sharks climbing Mount Everest. I say probably, because I am also not a zoologist and I would be remiss in speculating on the possibility of either one of these things occurring at some later date. However as of this minute it would appear it is still well beyond their current evolutionary purview.

 
So, if genetically speaking, we are all predestined to live within our own evolutionary constraints; why do so many people fight against it with every fathom of their being. It’s okay not to be awesome at everything. It’s okay to not to be much good at most things….I am in fact the living breathing testament to that statement. That being said, if you are this driver or you know this driver …do mankind a favour, stop trying to do what your not good at….and maybe just call a cab.

My social indictment of the selfie   24 comments

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What the selfie is happening to us humans? If I see one more teenage girl using her phone to take a picture of herself wearing a surprised duck face I am going to be forced to make a citizens arrest.

I could you know. It’s a thing… I looked it up….

The criminal code of Canada allows for a citizen to detain and charge an individual who has performed an indecent act. Now I realize I may be taking some liberties in my interpretation of the law, but I have watched the entire series of Ally Mcbeal and Boston Legal on Netflix so I feel pretty confident that I could make a very strong case.

I would further argue that the selfie stick should be registered and included in the list of prohibitive and restricted weapons. With all these crazy narcissists waving them about in public, it is only a matter of time before they impale some innocent bystander and or somebody loses an eye.

You know the old saying “it’s all fun and games until somebody’s on their way to the emergency room.”
I’m not saying they should do time in a maximum security facility but I would definitely advocate some jail time in that prison I’ve seen on the show Orange is the new black. Try taking a good selfie with a disposable one shot camera wearing a shapeless prison jumpsuit and posting it to Facebook. I dare you.

Sometimes I close my eyes and remember a quieter gentler time, when people had the good sense to resist the urge to capture every inane moment and faked facial expression that occurred in their lives. I’m reminded of the days of old when taking pictures was reserved for special occasions like birthdays, weddings, funerals, gathering evidence for a criminal investigation or to leverage a better settlement in a divorce. Those were kinder gentler times.

To those of you out there who are guilty of this non crime…..be warned. Life has funny way of self correcting, and if you insist on taking your picture posing like you just had your lips sucked up in vacuum you run the real risk of capturing the enduring image …..of an idiot.
Sent from my iPad

Posted January 14, 2016 by janyceresh in canada, family, Funny, Humour, ipads, iphones, Uncategorized

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In for a penny…. In for a pound.   32 comments

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Have you ever had an Oprah-esque (not sure that is a word….yet) moment when you can no longer reconcile your version of the truth with the cold hard slap in the face real life reflects back at you? It’s like waking up and realizing it is still Monday.

There you are just living your life and out of nowhere some sort of cosmic epiphany downloads to your brain which forces you to face or accept some new fact or reality. To which I always say, “Thank you real life for interrupting my regularly programmed and most enjoyable sense of contentment.”

I just would prefer to live in a softly lit bubble of fictional reality. Who wouldn’t? Truth for the most part is highly over-rated.

Sadly today, that bubble burst along with a pipe in our bathroom.

Yes folks, my home’s terrorist assault has continued and it has now begun to water board us; and by water boarding I mean rotting out my floor boards with a leaking pipe in our shower. The good news is we were able to discover the problem early when some dingy water drizzled on a friend of ours who had stopped by for a visit.

If I wasn’t before, I am now completely convinced our house is trying to break us or at the very least evict us. If my house was an animal I am certain I’d be advised to have it put down. I may have said that out loud last night…..do you think I caused this?

Regardless of who or what is responsible, we are now facing a demo and a rebuild. We considered hiring a professional to do the work, and then we just laughed and said why pay someone to do something that we can so effortlessly do ourselves? I mean how hard can it be? Some new pipe and a bit of soldering and Bob’s your uncle. Realistically, we should be able to knock this off in a day or two and be living the life of non-leakage in no time.

Now I know what you’re thinking, statistically speaking we haven’t had the best track record on home improvement projects; but practice makes perfect right? And we rarely make the same mistake three times. We make similar mistakes a lot but not the exact same ones, because that would make us complete idiots. I feel really good about this.

These are the things I’m telling myself to try and ward off the mother of all panic attack I sense is about to envelop me.

On a positive note we have decided to totally change the design of the bathroom. It was entirely too small; not even enough room to swing a cat. Not that I would, or have ever, swung a cat. (Please no letters). However, for arguments sake, I would assume that if ever the need did arise (to swing a cat) I would be unable to do so.

The new design will require us to bang out a couple of walls and re-plumb a few things….no big deal… just the toilet, sink and shower. This of course might add a day or two to the projected completion date but you know us… in for a penny, in for a pound.

I’m not sick anymore….and apparently that’s a bad thing?   9 comments

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I have a feeling I am no longer cool. It is not yet official, but I have been informed by not one, but two of my children that my street cred is almost maxed out. Not sure if I can apply for additional credit, or what slippery slope I’d have to slide down to get it? Is street cred even a thing anymore?

The sad reality is I’m not sure how long I have been out of the loop; or if there is still even a loop to be out of?

I just found out that it’s not even cool to say “cool” anymore. Apparently “sick” is the new cool. Which is beyond confusing because being sick has never been something I have ever aspired to be. In fact, at the first sign of illness I usually start downing Echinacea like my life depended on it. Now I find out that I should have been embracing my “sickness” as though my reputation depended on it.

It’s not like I haven’t tried to stay current.

I listen to the latest jam (which I recently figured out is music and not a reference to a fruit preservative.) This has not been without sacrifice because listening to the repetitive nonsensical content that some popular artists spew onto the airwaves is tantamount to ear torture. Not to pick on anyone in particular but if losing my cool (aka sick) mom status means never having to hear Rhianna’s “Umbrella” ever again….it would almost be worth it. What the “Ella Ella” is she going on about anyway?

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I used to have the language down. Sadly that too…”was so five minutes ago.” Actual words have now been replaced by acronyms; LOL, IDK, and OMG and of course the most banal of them all…. the letter “k”.

I have a sneaking suspicion the reason for this trend is the youth of today can no longer spell. Of course that’s just a working theory and when presented to a focus group of teenagers the idea did elicit some serious eye rolling. The good news is that they weren’t having a seizure just indicating a reticence to agree with my hypothesis.

Keeping abreast of the all the fashion fads has also been a bit of strain. I would dearly love to have a few minutes alone with the genius who came up with low rise jeans that showcased everything from tramp stamps to little Johnny’s boxer briefs. If only there were things that I could un-see.

The world is changing too fast, it’s all about emoticons, snap chats and selfies. There is even something called the vine which I was super excited about until my daughter pointed out it had nothing to do with the production of wine. I also don’t see the point of posting mindless status updates on Facebook. Do we really need to know what people are feeling and doing every second of the day? I myself prefer a little mystery.

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I guess the truth of it is that I don’t want to be “sick” anymore. It’s exhausting and confusing. I’m okay letting it go. Not all of it of course, just the bits that grate on my nerves like white girls who sing along with gangster rap like it’s their personal truth. The fact is holding on to youth and youthful ideas are a bit like chasing a ghost. It seems like it might be fun because you’ve heard about it on twitter but when push comes to shove it is just way too scary.

Posted October 25, 2014 by janyceresh in children, family, Humour, parenting

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The day peace and quiet ran away   20 comments

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Yesterday, I found peace and quiet. I was so excited and overcome that I decided to put them in a safe place so that we could have a proper visit later, when I had a moment to spare. Later came, and well, I think we all know how that story ends. They are now officially missing in action; or is it inaction? I put up some posters in the neighbourhood but no one has called. I fear the worst.

I should have spent more time with them when I had the chance. Now they are gone and I am not sure they are ever coming back. I was going to file a police report but that seemed like a dead end. I knew in my heart of hearts if they had been found by someone, that person was never ever going to admit it, much less return them to me.

I was so careless and cavalier, thinking that there would be time to get to know each other better. I so desperately wanted them to feel at home where I lived; that was wishful thinking. The dogs probably thought they were a stranger and barked them away. Let’s face it they were definitely new to our neighbourhood. Everyone knows peace and quiet can be quite skittish when confronted with two nervous chihuahuas.

The strange thing is that they seemed to enjoy spending time with me as much as I did with them. It seemed that we had a real connection in our short time together. Maybe I was just deluding myself; maybe I was just a rebound for them. They probably had a fight with some Buddhist caught in traffic and needed a soft place to land until the dust settled.

Now, I’m left with 2 radios; one blasting hip hop and the other some sort of angry rap music. The kids are fighting over dishes and my husband is in the garage using tools powered by an air compressor. There are no less than three televisions on, and the dogs are talking to everyone who walks within a block of our house. I’ve been reduced to speaking in a voice loud enough to be heard in Beirut in a vain attempt to get everyone to shut up, shut down, and shut off.

It seems like my life at the moment is not a safe place for peace and quiet to reside. I get it, I guess. Perhaps one day we will meet again. I wonder if we will know each other when and if we do? Will I smile and embrace them as old friends, or will I feel awkward and not know what to do or say? Will I miss what I will have to give up to have them stay? Is losing the busy chaotic bustle of my loved ones when they finally fly the nest the price I’ll have to pay to win them back?

Sadly, with the housing prices these days, I have the sneaking suspicion that my children will be residing with us for a good long time to come. So, I guess I’ll just have to keep looking for peace and quiet and see if maybe they have a guest room I can stay in from time to time.

 

 

 

The Weekend technology forgot   32 comments

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Sometimes I think to myself, ‘now that’s a great idea. I should totally do that. In fact I can’t wait to do that because it is going to be the start of something amazing.’ These ideas usually come to me around 3 am, which is slightly inconvenient because I do tend to be asleep at that time. However, given the sheer genius of these epiphanies I am not prepared to tell them to make an appointment.
That is, until last week. When I forgot to not remember an idea that came to me mid slumber.
I further exasperated the fact by mentioning it to my husband, who thought that it may be the greatest idea since sliced bread. So we decided to share it with the kids over breakfast.
The meal started light and fun; my youngest showing his siblings YouTube videos and my eldest taking selfies and posting them to snap chat. It was just your average breakfast with the family since technology put down roots in our home.
My husband and I looked at each other and knew that this was as good a time as any to share the good news. No, we weren’t becoming Jehovah’s witnesses; it was something with way more shock value than that.
We were going to take away all the electronics for the entire weekend.
I’ve heard silence before, but that was rare and entirely foreign in my home and while it was in this instance brief, it was none the less quite breathtaking. Of course, that was just the calm before the storm. The subsequent squall that ensued was only slightly less intense than a baby daddy reveal on the Jerry Springer show.
It seemed that the children were a little hesitant to jump aboard and embrace the days of yore, when technology was a tv with 13 channels and no remote. Our phones were tied to walls and if we wanted to watch a movie we had to rent one at the video store and make sure we remembered to rewind it. Our music played on record players and the pictures we shot took a whole week to develop.
We told them more stories of our own childhoods, explained the freedom and joy of being outside, building forts and riding bikes. We couldn’t wait to be free of the confines of our homes and rarely would appear back unless hunger overtook us or it was too dark to play capture the flag.
They stared the stare of great sadness as they came to terms with their impending loss. They realized it was fruitless to argue. We had made up our minds. They asked a few questions.
How would they cope without Netflix?
… What would this new existence feel like if it couldn’t be shared on Instagram?
Also, my favorite … If a tree falls in the forest and no one tweets about it … does anybody #care?
We gathered up the devices and the experiment began.
It was without a doubt the longest, most painful weekend I can remember in quite some time. It rained every day and every night. They couldn’t play outside, they didn’t ride their bikes, or climb trees, or play kick the can. They just stayed inside. They fought, and argued, and tortured each other to the point that I almost ran away from home. I’ve never been a huge fan of Mondays, but last week I was very pleased to see it arrive.
You see, it was my fault. I had failed to teach the fun of being stuck inside on a rainy day, of playing board games and baking cookies and building forts inside. I tried at one point, but I was met with little enthusiasm and I think one of them might have growled at me. So I just backed away slowly.
Next time I will have weather contingency plans. Yes, there will be a next time, because I want my kids to be free and unplugged and able to communicate ideas in real time and not just by text. Technology has made itself quite at home in the twenty first century, but that doesn’t mean we can’t pack it up and send it camping from time to time.

Thank you but I don’t need a break   41 comments

 

Just now, I threw another ball into the air. At this point I think the current number of balls I am juggling is about 3,978, give or take (margin of error on this number is directly proportionate to my propensity to exaggerate). Suffice it say there are professional clowns that are envious of my mad skills.

This week was beyond busy, and next week is shaping up to be just as bad. My To Do List is so extensive that I am experiencing carpal tunnel symptoms just writing it all down. Every time I check something off, I think of no less than three more things to add. Then my phone will ring, or an email will pop up, then I’ll get a text and someone will comment on my Facebook status and and and …

I know I am not the only person experiencing these challenges. I see the looks of quiet desperation on people’s faces when they are forced to wait longer than 2 minutes at the Tim Hortons drive thru. We might actually need to reassess our lives when we don’t have time to wait for coffee.

What are we trying to prove? We will never finish it. It’s a fools errand … Which reminds me, I have to pick up my dry cleaning and a new notepad so I can write more Lists.

Have you ever seen the hamster on the wheel chasing the cheese and never catching it? That’s me. Just a crazed animal, furiously chasing the ever elusive achievement of being finished … The List. Really, at this point I would be happy just to finish writing it; then at least I could get down to the ‘doing’ part of the exercise. Great, I forgot to write down exercise … I wonder, is extreme writing considered cardio? It’s times like this that having ADD can be both a curse and a blessing.

Squirrel.

So how do I cope? I used to say things like, “I just need a break.” I don’t anymore. Why, you ask?

It was about this time, 9 years ago. I was feeling so overwhelmed that all I ever seemed to say was,”I need a break.” I practically started and ended every sentence with those 5 words. Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘be careful what you wish for?’ The universe listens, and it thinks itself very funny. You see, as I was drowning in things I needed to do, and was calling out for a 5 minute timeout to pause and reflect, I was given just that.

I fell down the stairs and broke my back.
So I got the break I was looking for, with the added bonus of a literal break. I never ask for breaks anymore. Not a coffee break, a break in traffic, a spring break or even a commercial break.
I don’t even like to talk about checking my brakes; I just do this crazy little wordless play indicating to my mechanic he should check them. Thank goodness he gets me now, because I’m not going to lie, the first time I did this, I failed to properly communicate my needs. That led to a few awkward moments where the possibility of a restraining order may or may not have been discussed.

So now, I just ask for what I actually want; a vacation on a sunny beach in the Caribbean. So far, the universe has been pretty stingy handing those out; probably because this lacks the comedic irony it yearns for.

So where’s the ‘Ah Ha!’ moment of my story, the epiphany, the witty conclusion that ties this mad rant up in a nice bow and leaves you, the reader, feeling that all is well? To be honest, I don’t actually know. I do know that it was undoubtedly freaking brilliant. You would have been so impressed. It might have changed the very fabric of your existence. Sadly, I wrote it down on one of The Lists and proceeded to put it in a safe place so I wouldn’t lose it. We all know how that story always ends.

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Posted March 31, 2014 by janyceresh in Breaks, Do it yourself, family, Humour, Uncategorized

If the truth hurts it’s probably a conspiracy.   31 comments

 

There is an evil imp running amok in my home and, while I’ve never actually seen him, I know exactly when he’s been around. I believe he works at night and probably has other ne’er-do-well imps assisting him.  I’m sure he thinks he is amusing.  He is wrong.  The shenanigans he and his fellow miscreants get up to are both cruel and self-esteem-crushing.

What does he do you ask? Well I’ll tell you.

He has been slowly shrinking my pants and other articles of clothing that, only 6 months ago, fit me perfectly.  I think he has a little sewing kit; he sneaks into my closet at night and makes minor adjustments to the waistbands of my trousers.  Nothing too noticeable at first, just a nip here and a tuck there. He is obviously all about the long con.

It’s not just my clothes he’s been sabotaging either.  He has also managed to have all the bathroom scales set 15 pounds heavier.  How he does that is beyond me.  Clearly he has a background in engineering.  Or maybe he is invisible and stands behind me with a foot on the scale while I’m on it.  I really wouldn’t put anything past him.

 

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Now, how he manipulates my mirrored reflection is beyond me. When I’m standing in front of it, it actually looks as if I’m slightly more robust than I used to be.  Maybe he was once employed at a carnival and was in charge of the House of Mirrors.  It makes sense; I’ve been in those places and they can make anyone look like they follow a strict diet of Ding Dongs, burgers and Big Gulp sodas.

Why is he picking on me, though?  What did I do to deserve such a blatant attack on my self-esteem?  I’m a good person.

I support local charities.  Why, just last week the girl guides came to my door and I bought 8 cases of their thin mint cookies. Not sure what became of them, though. I saw the boxes in the trash a few days later. Maybe the little imps got hungry and helped themselves to my stash.  I certainly couldn’t have consumed them all by myself, and I was the only one who knew where they were.

I am also doing my part to lower my carbon footprint. I used to work out regularly, which caused me to breathe harder and with more frequency. Recognizing that my increased out flow of carbon dioxide could potentially have a negative effect on our already fragile eco-system, I have sacrificed my exercise program for the greater good.  Don’t quote me on the science; I don’t claim to be an expert. I’m just one person trying to make a difference on this great blue marble we call Earth.  It takes a village, people.

Now while I cannot prove with absolute certainty that these imps exist, and that they have been slowly but surely wreaking their havoc on my existence, I have come to a decision which could prove to be quite lucrative. I’m going to start a home-based business. I will provide overnight clothing alterations for a nominal fee.  I’ll hang them up in my closet and put the little scamps to work for me instead of against me.  That will teach them to mess with an entrepreneur.

I have to run; pizza’s here and I have to make sure they didn’t forget the extra cheese. Did I mention how I support local businesses?

 

 

Posted March 20, 2014 by janyceresh in family, fitness, Humour, parenting, Uncategorized, Weight

Death of a Dishwasher   39 comments

Recently, my dishwasher passed away. We held a small funeral; immediate family members only. It was a sad day, but as I’m not one to dwell, I put on my big girl pants and started shopping for a replacement. Sounds callous, I know, but I think wherever old Dishy Mcdisherson is, she understands.

It didn’t take long to find the “one”. She was perfect. Gleaming stainless steel with a heavy load capacity. She even had a food disposer, which is great for us because my children think pre-scraping is something that happens right before they start a fight with one another.

I was in love, or at the very least, willing to stop seeing other dishwashers.

I purchased her and brought her to her new forever home. Weird how I refer to her as a her . . . Perhaps because doing the dishes is a woman’s job . . . Said no woman ever. I just put that in there to see if you were paying attention.

Anyhow, back to my story.

I was so excited. I couldn’t wait to have her moved in so she could begin making my dishes sparkle and my silverware shine. I called my husband and told him to strap on his work belt, charge up his power tools and channel his inner handyman.

When I arrived home my hubby and I brought her in and carefully carried her up the stairs and into our kitchen. I should qualify the word “carefully”. We may have hit a wall or two on the way up, which will probably require a smidge or so of dry wall repair and a dab of paint but luckily, she came through unscathed.

At that point, feeling I had done my part, I left to share the big news with my Facebook friends. Just as I was about to send my exciting status update, however, I heard my husband express himself in the most colourful way. Judging by his tone and his preference for words that rhyme “truck “and “spit”, I immediately knew that something was amiss.

I called out, asked him what was the matter. He then said three words to me that I will never forget.

“It doesn’t fit.” Just like me in high school, she was too tall.

I couldn’t believe it. How was this possible? I had done all the research, asked all the right questions. I had even stared into the salesman’s eyes and asked him “is that your best price?” This situation was unacceptable. I told my husband to take the wheels off and any other non-essential parts; make it fit. Sadly, he had already thought of that.

So I walked away. I needed time to think and my husband was starting to become poor company to be around. It wasn’t five minutes later that I heard the sound. It didn’t make sense at first; it was just this loud buzzing and grinding noise.

I followed the sound into the kitchen and it was there I found the source. My husband was wielding a jigsaw like Jason from Friday the 13th, minus the hockey mask. It seemed that he had concluded, in his infinite wisdom, to cut our kitchen counter in half and slide her into place. When I asked him how he had come to this decision he said “it didn’t fit…so I made it fit.” While I did argue the method I really couldn’t fight the simplicity of his logic.

So what began as an innocent quest for cleaner dishes ended up as a rather extensive and expensive kitchen renovation.

You might be wondering what the moral of this story is, and that, my friends, is surprisingly simple.

Measure twice ….cut NEVER!!!

 

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