We haven't felt very lucky lately.
The ice maker broke.
The dishwasher isn't washing worth a hoot.
The oven has to bake a half hour extra each time.
The internet modem was struck by lightning. So we got a new modem.
It was struck by lightning, too.
Our phone line was also damaged by who-knows-what (lightning, hmm?). The AT&T guy, who seemed to have caught our poor luck, had to make three trips out here and put in new line from our house to 2 miles away (now you know why I haven't been blogging!).
My man, and the AT&T guy, got stung by 2 angry yellow jackets who were living under the AT&T box.
We had a flat tire. But, luckily, close to home. And, luckily, we had a regular-sized spare tire handy.
A combination of Bonnie the Non-Hurricane and a tonload of dispersant sprayed in front of her, sinking the oil, got my man laid off (temporarily, please!) his oil spill job.
Our veranda "joyce" or is it "joise" or "joist" broke under the weight of storing garage things there temporarily. I was a bit afraid to ask my man just what a joyce/joise/joist is because he said, "Oh, greeeeat. The joyce just broke," in such a way that it obviously was not great, so I thought it might not be a good time to ask him to clarify.
Something about that veranda thing also seems to have broken the sensor for our outside lights and fans.
The air conditioner flooded the girls' closet.
A recently hung cabinet – loaded with sewing stuff – fell in the new studio and took down a shelving unit with it. It landed on the sewing machine on the new countertop.
And then, we had a second flat tire. Remember where the spare is? We spent an hour near midnight (after a concert) in a beach town 45 minutes from home trying to fix the new flat tire with two cans of fix-a-flat. It wasn't working. Finally a policeman, who stopped by because he thought my man was deflating someone else's tire, gave us his can of fix-a-flat and suggested we put it into the first flat tire, which was lying in the truckbed. It limped us home by 1:30am, thank God, and then to the tire store by 8am that morning.
It finally became comical and the kids and I started counting. We were up to "#10."
"Wait, maybe 12, because #11 was the tire..."
…Anyway we lost count because my man finally broke in to holler, "Would you guys stop counting!"
Giggle. Maybe it's the poison sumac rash on his arm and face that's making him so uptight.