nixtress's Diaryland Diary
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Dryers that blow hot and cold..and Arachnaphobia
I got home from Grams this afternoon and realized the dryer was still running. Funny, since the last time I put clothing in it was last night around ten. I trundle on down the stairs and see that the timer is still sitting right where I put it after changing out Trev's shoes and jacket (see yesterday's entry) and putting in a new load to dry.
And upon opening the dryer, I find damp, cold clothing. It seems that my dryer, or at least the part of it that creates heat, has died. "Shit!", I think.
Then I grab the phone and start calling to find out how much this is going to cost to fix . Basic synopsis is that if I have to have someone come in to fix this, it'll cost about 50 dollars just for them to step inside my house. And then depending on what's actually wrong with it, it'll cost me anywhere from 15-150 more. *le sigh* Being broke sucks.
One guy recommended that I check my breaker box and if that was all fine, unscrew the vent off the back and clean everything out. Apparently, the heating unit won't function if there isn't a healthy air flow back there. So an hour before boy-pickup time I'm on my hands and knees in my dark and musty basement unscrewing that vent and using my Hoover to suck out all the lint back there. And it still didn't warm up.
I'm thinking thermostat or maybe heating element. In an hour or so, I'll have big beefy men in my basement taking care of this problem for me (hopefully) at a much more reasonable price (dinner!).
Ready to laugh? I decided after getting home with the boys that I would clean up my basement a little, in prep for other people besides myself to see that dark space. (sort of like pre-sex checklists, ya know?)
I'm down in the basement, cleaning up stray dryer sheets and changing out the bag in the trash can that is currently overflowing with odds and ends trash and lintballs...I even used the Hoover to suck up the cobwebs and moved an old blanket that's been sitting on a shelf down there and ended up screaming and jumping about a foot.
To digress for a moment, I think I've mentioned in the past my fear of spiders.
Now--this was the GreatgreatgreatGranddaddy of all nasty hairy black spiders. Really. It was roughly the size of my palm with about twelve extra legs and big beady eyes. And hair--my goodness, it had more hair than Cousin It! I could see it lusting my blood. Really. And it scared the living CRAP out of me!
So. I scream and jump, thereby scaring my sons who were digging 'round the dark corners in the basement, and they scream as well.
Frozen to the spot, held in place by those spidery eyes, I'm telling the boys they really, really, really need to give me something to kill this monster with. What do they hand me? A dryer sheet. Ha! And then I'm handed a hanger. This just didn't fly. I was tempted to use the sweeper but was afraid it would then multiply inside the bag and take over my home. Finally they gave me a REAL weapon---the small wooden oar that somehow took up residence in that dingy basement of ours. And I was able to smear the Grandaddy of all hairy nasty spiders across the wall with great skill (and relief).
Great new decor.
I think I've had enough excitement. I'll just stick to my nice boring life!
Happy Tuesday.
N.
3:45 p.m. - 2004-02-24
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