Marsha fell on the dishwasher door 2 weeks ago during a Sunday clean-up with her brother.
"We were NOT messing around", they insisted.
"Marsha wasn't paying attention to what she was doing", informed Greg.
"It was an accident", Marsha cried.
"Accident or no accident",.........I proclaimed through gritted teeth,(okay I was a tad bit hotter than that, but that's why I do the editing) SOMEONE is doing the dishes by hand and it will NOT be me.
Marsha called Uncle Dale. Uncle Dale is the band-aid that holds our family appliances /cars /plumbing /electrical, LIFE together. He fixes all of our boo-boo's. He met his match in the dishwasher door. Broken plastic parts, "They just don't make 'em like they used to", seals that won't seal anymore.
In my infinite wisdom I saw this as an opportunity for all of that love and harmony to abound unrestrained, like I read in the magazine. Brother and Sister working together. Mother hiding her glee that the children are working together even though her favorite appliance is broken. A priceless MasterCard commercial was in the making.
Or not. I don't know what's worse....the broken dishwasher or the water that is ALL over the floor and counters, traces of a water fight everywhere I turn.
Crazy of crazies.........I've never been happier with them. They have been doing an awesome job. Who needs the Whirpool man?
Gee, I wonder how the dishwasher really broke?
I'll probably find out at my 50th Wedding Anniversary when they start reminiscing. Remember when................