Every now and then I get this feeling that POOF I am going to turn into someone else – someone not much better than I am. Oh, no, more that that: Someone really grand and wonderful. This would be when the Indiana Jones music would start playing. But then I realize that is not going to happen and my mind sighs. Recently, however, it dawned on me that the suddenly becoming someone else feeling might not necessarily turn out to be an improvement. That is a little scary and I find perhaps it is better to stay with the AmeliaJake I know.

Still, maybe. . . with fairy dust . . . and a little push of some science not yet understood . . . I could be like Rose. Now, AmeliaJake, don’t be silly. There will be only one Rose:

I used the wet/dry vac to get the water out of the broken Maytag washer. I didn’t want to haul the wet clothes out first so I put the end of the hose in the potato ricer bucket and it worked pretty well. Do you know how much water comes out of a washer with clothes in it? Two big vac-fulls. And then when the clothes water dripped out (I put them on a rack inside the washer) I got another half vac full.

Of course this is boring; I know that. What would anyone expect from AmeliaJake after she discovered the washer was broken and then wrestled with a rubber anaconda-like hose? We have a tiny laundry room and to work on the washer, you have to remove the dryer and that means finessing it through a doorway. To do this you have to climb up and over the washer and dryer a couple of times; you regret it when you get behind one and realize you haven’t brought your footstool with you. I had to rock climb my feet up the wall to get the leverage to get on top of the washer. By the time I was done with the dryer and the washer and the lint and the vac and the dripping clothes, I was a filthy mess.

But, if you get a comfortable chair, a cool drink and wash your hands, it is amazing how easily you can tolerate being a filthy mess – sort of like going in-country in swampland, but without the alligators.

Phase Two of this event is getting the repairman to come and then say, “Oh, it’s just a switch. I can fix that in a jiffy.” I am not going to fret about it. Maybe I’ll just become a nudist because at least the shower drain is unclogged. Uh-oh, Rose just said that while I am not fretting, I sound a bit dis-spirited. Yes, it’s true – if I became a nudist I couldn’t wear my orange pants. So I guess I’d better just buck up and get the washer fixed. And we do have to keep Rose’s red and white striped socks clean . . .