If sarcasm is a form of anger, then why did Bill Gates purposely design this into his systems? Yesterday as I was trying to save a file the computer sent me this message, “The last time you tried to save this file it caused serious problems to your system. Do you still want to continue to try and save this file?” or something to that effect.
In other words, “If you put your hand on this hot element, you will seriously burn yourself. Do you want to continue?” Of course one is then shamed into making the prudent decision, “No, I don’t want to continue, you sanctimonious piece of hardware.”
However, much as I malign the rude messages, I sure could’ve used a warning like that last week from the washing machine. I thought I was being a tremendously helpful mother by picking up Luke’s clothes and throwing them into the washing machine. When I retrieved them and found his BlackBerry, however, I felt a bit sick.
So that was about $500 down the drain. Then on Friday I was admiring my new black leather Naturalizer loafers. I’d been wearing them that morning and took them off, leaving them under the dining room table. The worst part is that a little voice inside reminded me that Ricky had done in a similar pair of shoes, but I ignored it.
Sure enough, the next time I looked, there he was, sitting beside the flap he’d chewed off the top of the left shoe. I grabbed the shoe and tried to catch the little weasel, but he was too quick, dodging this way and that as I lunged, screaming, from one side of the table to the other.
Then I needed to pick up the new promotional materials I’d ordered at Staples, and this all came to around $250. I tried to keep a calm expression on my face. I’ve been asked by Urban Fare to bring Serving Suggestion cards, so I had to have those made as well.
The final insult occurred last night when I returned to bed after going to the bathroom in the middle of the night. As I put my head on my pillow I realized it was wet. I turned on the light, and sure enough, Ricky had peed on my pillow!
This time I didn’t even bother trying to find the little troll, and just got busy making the area half-ways habitable for a human. In the morning I decided I would save money by washing both feather-filled pillows, even though one is advised not to do it. Apparently, they are to be taken to a special feather-cleaning facility.
However, I’ve washed them before, and though I believe it may have been partly responsible for the final breakage of the old top-loading washer, it can work. Once the pillows make it through the wash cycle, you just have to manually put them through the spin cycle a few times. Finally, the machine is able to drain them of their hundreds of pounds of water.
They’re currently rattling around in the dryer, throwing it back and forth wildly. After several cycles, once they’re finally dry, I will feel so proud of myself for having saved the money from the special feather-cleaning facility.