I didn’t know what would have me break into my emergency 12 pill xanax supply, but it was the dryer. Who knew this would be the straw that broke the xanax seal, yet it was.
The day started well. Little fruit for Kelly hobbit 1st breakfast at 7am. Our new favorite morning cafe didn’t open until 9:30am, so we puttered about the apartment. Kenny scrubbed the bathroom much to my eternal love. Give that man a medal and a tetanus shot!
After a shower for Kenny, we were out to breakfast at Baryl. Vegan waffles. OMG, soy whip cream — I never knew. Finally I understand vegan food love. I was so pleased with myself I encouraged Kenny to go rent a bike while I write and do laundry.
I didn’t have to say those words twice. With a peck on the cheek, he is gone in a flash.
Dutifully I begin the laundry and all is well. Washer completes cycle and I load the wet clothes in the dryer. The only words I can read on the machine are ‘mix, sport & super.’ I feel ‘mix’ is the safest setting. Then I touch the button I assume is ‘start’ and the dryer begins…only to turn off in 90 seconds. Beeping begins and nothing. WTH?
Ok, turn the dial to another setting and hit the ‘start’ button. It turns on for 10 seconds and then nothing. WTF?
Repeat the same sequence. Same results. Motherfucker!
I begin slipping into the crazy zone. Flipping switches. My single ‘touch’ at ‘start’ button becomes a rapid fire tapping by my forefinger. I make myself walk away, but after 2 minutes I can’t help myself – I renew my assault of buttons. I become aggressive and panicky.
I don’t want to bother Kenny. That’s not fair and what can he do from a bike? Jackshit.
I text the Host. He immediately replies, “Well it could be the water chamber on the left. Or the setting. Do you want to send me a picture to help?”
Holy hell, there is a water chamber on the dryer? What madness is this? I had been hearing water slosh around and ignored it as – why? In the USA, there is NO water chamber on the dryer. I know it’s the motherfucking water chamber. Fucking fresh hell.
I reply calmly (utterly faking it now), “Oh, it’s the water chamber. What do I do?”
He replies, “Pull it out, dump in the shower and you are ready to go!”
I’m thrilled. I reply, “Thank you! I so appreciate your quick help. Have a great day!” I have a path forward.
Pull the chamber. It’s full to the brim. I promptly dump in the shower and replace the chamber. Viola! Turn the knob to ‘mix’ and press start. Nothing. Again I press start, nothing.
Blood pressure mounting. Try new setting. Begin tapping ‘start’ and nothing. I make myself walk away from the machine as I have now hit full crazy mode.
I force myself to sit on the sofa and contemplate next steps. Mental self talk, “Kelly do nothing. There is an easy fix, but you are too insane to see it right now. Breathe. Do nothing.”
I grip a pillow and scream into it. I contemplate assault. “Kelly, pull your shit together. Do nothing! Eat some chocolate.”
I follow my wise mind and eat a chocolate bar. I decide xanax is the right next step. My emergency supply is down by one. Kenny walks in 20 minutes later. I am boiling with irritation and wail, “What the mother-fucking-fuck! I can’t work it. Help me!”
He saunters over to the machine, presses ‘start’ and holds his finger there…The fucking machine begins. Whirling around just right. It seems rapid tapping does not work. Tip – slow down.
I laugh like an asylum patient. Fucking hell. Just another day in paradise. I need a G&T…
Project Empty Nest 