The day before we left for Oklahoma was a series of domestic problems.
The washing machine refused to drain - the pump was issuing an ominous an ka-klunk ka-klunk noise. Then the computer would decide to shut things down rather than continue doing whatever it was doing.
The garage door fell apart: three rollers missing, a fourth was off the track.
Couldn't stay around to fix it - family called. Things needed to be done.
Tied the garage door up so it couldn't get any worse. Told the kids to leave the washing machine alone. Did a load of laundry by hand. Spent the next day driving to Oklahoma.
And man, nothing feels as empty as US 169 south of Iola, Kansas after dark. There may be stuff out there, but I don't think I saw a single light until I hit Nowata.
When I got back I put off attending to those chores. Intellectually, I know that when one's father dies it's going to cause a certain moodiness - to say the least - but I was unprepared for how badly this hit me.
Couldn't put it off anymore. I need my garage, and I was down to my last clean pair of underwear.
Laid the washer down. Prepared myself to find a dead pump. Found a mangled sock coiled up inside. Removed sock. Washing machine is back in working order.
Got new rollers from Menards. Couldn't find my 7/16 socket. Used vise-grips to unbolt the hinges. Spent 30 minutes on one hinge, realized that was insane. Got a new socket set from Wal-Mart. Thirty minutes later the job is 90% done, with one pesky hinge up in the upper corner that requires some minor adjust before it will fit. It was dark, dinner was ready. Enough for the day.
And I'm no longer quite so down-in-the-dumps. Getting something, anything, done was a big help.
It still hurts, but I can breathe and move and think again.
The washing machine refused to drain - the pump was issuing an ominous an ka-klunk ka-klunk noise. Then the computer would decide to shut things down rather than continue doing whatever it was doing.
The garage door fell apart: three rollers missing, a fourth was off the track.
Couldn't stay around to fix it - family called. Things needed to be done.
Tied the garage door up so it couldn't get any worse. Told the kids to leave the washing machine alone. Did a load of laundry by hand. Spent the next day driving to Oklahoma.
And man, nothing feels as empty as US 169 south of Iola, Kansas after dark. There may be stuff out there, but I don't think I saw a single light until I hit Nowata.
When I got back I put off attending to those chores. Intellectually, I know that when one's father dies it's going to cause a certain moodiness - to say the least - but I was unprepared for how badly this hit me.
Couldn't put it off anymore. I need my garage, and I was down to my last clean pair of underwear.
Laid the washer down. Prepared myself to find a dead pump. Found a mangled sock coiled up inside. Removed sock. Washing machine is back in working order.
Got new rollers from Menards. Couldn't find my 7/16 socket. Used vise-grips to unbolt the hinges. Spent 30 minutes on one hinge, realized that was insane. Got a new socket set from Wal-Mart. Thirty minutes later the job is 90% done, with one pesky hinge up in the upper corner that requires some minor adjust before it will fit. It was dark, dinner was ready. Enough for the day.
And I'm no longer quite so down-in-the-dumps. Getting something, anything, done was a big help.
It still hurts, but I can breathe and move and think again.
