"...The focus of this cartoon is to bring that emotion home to every parent of a college student. Suddenly, doing the laundry for your child is not such a chore. And picking up their clothes off of the floor in their room becomes a labor of love when you realize that you may never have to do it again."
Gary Varval, Indianapolis Star, 4/17/07
It's Saturday again. Wasn't it just Saturday last week? I guess a lot of things happened to move the days forward so quickly. Saturday is supposed to mean one of two things here -- college football or food. But, as you know perfectly well, I've said all there can be to say about college football. And, since the season is finally -- mercifully -- finished, I won't have anything to say for days or even weeks. Or, until National Signing Day. Whichever comes first.
As for food, well we finally got the proper diagnosis on the sick lower oven that went AWOL on Christmas Day. During this process, what was ailing the lower oven spread to the upper oven and put it out of commission, too. We got the "F7" message and followed the instructions to "reboot," which really means to flip the breaker switch on the side of the house. This Mark did in freezing cold weather on the day the wind storm came through Denver. I could hear the metal panel flapping against the house while he tried to decifer among the rows of switches. He found the right one and magic happened for about 30 seconds. The oven rebooted, and the entire control panel worked again. The lower oven came back to life, preheated, and everything.
Then, the beeping began again. F7 was back. And, with it, the upper oven was now on strike, too. For that matter, the entire control panel had left the building. Great.
The repairman had wasted no time in ordering the new computer during his first visit. "It's the only one left in stock." They must teach that in "Identifying & Capturing Incremental Revenue During Routine Repair Calls" class. He was almost sorry to hear from Mark that F7 had appeared when he called to vigorously report the arrival of the new computer in his van and schedule his follow-up appointment.
But, even he could not deny the fact that F7 might mean an entirely new ballgame. After he dismantled the oven from the wall again, I had to leave the room. I never liked the sight of blood; otherwise, I would have been a surgeon. He shouted up the stairs, "OK to use your bathroom?" Maybe he was nauseous, too.
After what seemed like an eternity (five or six minutes), I heard muffled tones of him giving a discertation to Mark about the ridiculousness of computer-based home appliances. Magically, I heard the front door open and close. The coast was clear. I went bounding down the stairs.
Mark said, "Did you hear that?" Obviously, not. I was doing everything possible to hide from this train wreck and didn't want to prolong the conversation about the evils of technology one more moment than necessary.
Repairman had discovered that the problem was as easily solved as unwinding electrical tape from a spool. What was headed to $400 fell to the new, low price of $100, and everyone was as happy as anyone can be after paying $100 for about 12 inches of electrical tape.
But, I got to see what is really behind the black glass facade of my General Electric double ovens. It looks a lot like the inside of this computer. Not surprising. But, sort of disconcerting to draw a repairman who professes to neither use or support the operation of anything containing computer parts. He's a mechanical man, himself. His truck looked like a very old milk delivery truck from the 1970's, with no exterior markings. Tall and really boxy. He has seen every horror story connected to computer anything, let me tell you. He uses 100% Grade A mechanical parts. That's it. And, he's proud to be a Ludite. Now that he heard me define the term.
Very well. He's certainly not stupid. He got $100 of our money.
Once the relief settled from hearing that both ovens were now going to live, I turned my attention to the only thing that really mattered next. That would be, of course, to be certain that all evidence of Repairman's visit to my home had been eradicated. I traced his every step with household cleaner, paper towels, my 2X eyeglasses, and a wrinkled forehead. I made sure he was gone -- all of him.
That's just how I roll. Since football and food are off the table today, that leaves just one other possibility for a topic. Since I already wrote "War & Peace" about the ovens, that leaves a couple of sentences about laundry.
Saturday is not Laundry Day at the Dickerson's. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday AND Saturday are Laundry Day at the Dickerson's. Today is just like any other day, except for Sunday. On this particular Laundry Day, I thought I would be hand-wringing like I always do when Shannon is driving I-80 east back to Lincoln, Nebraska. Fortunately, I'm not engaged in that handwringing today. Because, unfortunately, she's on horsepill antibiotics for bronchitis. She might have strep also. So, her remaining undone laundry that would have been headed to Lincoln in a basket today is downstairs, sorted with all the rest of what we could find to do.
We have a very large, front-load washer that is supposed to do 23 bath towels at one time. I never tested the claim. But, bigger loads are more efficient anyway. It's just another day. It's just another Laundry Day. Instead of thinking that I shouldn't be doing what a 21-year-old should have done two days ago, I'm more than happy to help out.
Not having the opportunity to help out is just too horrific to contemplate.
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