A Brief Affair

Yesterday, I was so excited to have one of my posts featured over at Aiming Low — a humor site about promoting the mediocrity in all of us.  If you’re not already a fan, please go check it out.

You may have seen that post before.  It was about — you guessed it — the Fordeville laundry drama.  Or lack thereof.  Day 170 with no machines, incidentally.  For those of you keeping count at home.

BUT.  Get this.

Who knew that the folks over at Aiming Low had such amazing super powers?  Because here’s what happened.  My post ran on their site and then, within 24 hours, I couldn’t believe my eyes.


All hooked up.  Fully operational.  Ready.  To.  Go.

{Cue angels singing.  Or smelling salts.  Or, where the hell did I put that fabric softener back in August?}

BUT WAIT.  Not so fast.  Get this.

Before you send me champagne or some lovely lavender-scented congratulatory detergent, I’ll tell you that my joy was short-lived.  No, not short-lived as much as killed — by way of the We Have a New Basement Problem files.

The whole laundry room has to be reconfigured.

Translation:  My machines will soon be disconnected.



I won’t bore you with the whole story, but the short version is this:  It wasn’t until the machines were installed that we noticed our mason had graciously jutted our new foundation out about six inches from the wall.  Six inches that we didn’t really have.  Six inches that he never told us about.

Yes, that’s right.  Six inches of error stands between me and Laundry Nirvana.  Because, in the current configuration, I am basically squeezed out of the laundry room.  So my machines fit — barely — but I’m standing outside the door.  Which doesn’t really work.  Especially, on a more urgent note, with no place to rest my glass of wine.  Now, we must rip up the wall to move the plumbing around, in order to hook the machines up to a different spot.

That’s OK — things were getting boring around here with progress, smooth sailing and the like.  It was throwing us off of our game.

So, for now, I’m treating my beautiful new machines kind of like going on a fabulous first date and then finding out the guy is temporarily moving out of the country or being shipped off to war.  I like my new machines, a lot.  We spent a fabulous first evening together.  But I fear getting too attached too soon.  I want to buy them nice things like cabinetry and high-efficiency detergent, but I don’t want to move too quickly.  I don’t want to be left in tears when they are suddenly pulled away from me sometime this week — all before we really got to know each other.

Such a brief love affair.  Such heartbreak.

We almost had it all.

But if you love someone, set them free.

{I’m on a Lite FM heartbreak ballad roll.  One more? OK…}

Take a look at me now — there’s just an empty space.

{I couldn’t resist.  End of Lite FM melodramatic references.}

Anyway, I just hope I can let my guard down when they come back to me and we move forward with our life together.  Day 170, you were lovely to behold.  This was no one-night stand.

Oh — and if anyone has seen my mason (because we sure as hell haven’t), can you tell him that I’d like a word?  Thanks.


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  1. Adrian Pastore says:

    Oh geez, this is heartbreaking. Especially the part about the lack of a wine rest. That really choked me up.

  2. tara says:

    “I will always love you” and “my heart will go on” too. But really, who knew that lite FM was such a fitting partner for basement renovation drama.

  3. M says:

    Did you really say 170? 170 days? I think there’s an award in your future! I have the same machines, and love them. Feel free to take a long drive for a brief interlude with them.
    Xo hang in there!!!

  4. Anna says:

    saddest story ever. and i’m not even kidding. i mean if you don’t have your own laundry, you might as well just move back to nyc, cause it’s really one of the main reasons we all moved to the suburbs!

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