Wordless Wednesday: Where do clothes dryers go when they die?

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It's always something, yes it is

If everything works out, the motorcycle will leave us today, and we'll pay off a major bill.

Yesterday I was already feeling sad about losing the Honda. Then Cliff decided to break a doctor's appointment he'd had me make last Friday when he was feeling light-headed, because, "I'm all right now; I don't need a doctor."

Well, he's a big boy, and he will do what he's going to do. I've thought all along he's been pushing himself too hard in the heat. It's supposed to be mid-nineties for a few more days, so we'll see if he decides to weed-eat in full sun at mid-day and gets light-headed again. (He isn't even supposed to be outside (or inside for that matter) in any temperatures over 85, according to the heart specialist.)

I washed a load of clothes yesterday morning only to find out my dryer wasn't working. I don't even have a clothesline now, since I never used it when I had it. So I was stewing about what to do with the clothes, and whom to call for dryer repairs.

It took about two hours for me to remember that I have a daughter with a dryer less than two miles away. And I have a key to her house. One problem solved.

As for repairs, it seems that appliance repairmen around here don't work on Mondays. Maybe they work Saturdays and need a two-day weekend? Monday seems to be a popular day to take off for lots of people: motorcycle shops are closed then, and barber and beauty shops.

I called Bruce, the local guy who fixes everything from furnaces to appliances to water-well pump problems. He works on Monday, but was fully booked up.

Once I realized I could use my daughter's dryer, it wasn't so urgent. Just an inconvenience, really. But now I sit wondering how much this is going to cost: maybe I'd be better off getting a new or used dryer?

Let's face it, I'm still just bummed about the motorcycle leaving. I'll be fine.