Writing

HOME ALONE

On Wednesday, March 10th, I was around the house all by myself, and I had several chores to keep me busy. Working on income tax return was ongoing so I started on the computer with that, and as I sat there poking the numbers in, I thought I may as well wash a load of clothes since the “coloreds” basket was overflowing. Good choice, I thought and went off to the laundry room to get the wash going, then back to income tax. After all, I have to use my time wisely at this stage of the game.

Now I realize I have to somehow unplug the thing, but there is no way I can reach over the machine to reach that wall plug. So I have to do a “no-no” and find a stool, or something, to stand on to make the reach. When I look back, I cannot remember if I had my cell phone “on me” with all this back and forth between laundry and computer. I am not supposed to take one step without either cell or line phone with me. At all times when home alone. PERIOD.

Anyway, I went to my clothes closet and brought the chair stool out in front of the dryer, lifted the seat up, leaving 2 steps which I stepped right up on, pulled the plug, got right back down, and heard the motor noise still going strong. This gave me the feeling that I have a real serious problem here, and I even stuck my head inside the dryer, and the noise was still noising, and it was still warm in there. What to do, what to do? Well, the sensible thing to do is contact the Sears Service people and get them on it ASAP. The phone book is too much for me to lift, so back to the computer to find the 800 number to call.

This whole scene started around 10 AM, and after all the back and forth from income tax to wash and dry the laundry, it was now around 3:30 PM and I happened to get a real person to talk to, which in itself is quite an achievement these days, and tell him how desperate I was and that I am 92 years old and would the thing catch fire, and so on and so on. He even had me go out to the dryer and report back if it was still doing the same thing, and it was. Finally, we set an appointment for Saturday, the 13^th between 8 and 12, along with a credit card charge of $139. There was no earlier time available, and by then, I was so weak from running – well, actually walking. I’m definitely not supposed to, or maybe I just plain- old can’t run anymore. So I agreed on the appointment time and day.

Next, my friend Alba called from the Tennis Garden where she does volunteer ushering. She was wondering how everything was going along at home, so I told her about the dryer and how the motor is still running, and I am out of my mind, and Sears can’t get here till Saturday. Didn’t even bother to mention the income tax was stuck with the pesky K-1’s. She tried to calm me down, and said she would be home when her shift ended. I tried to calm down to no avail.

When she did arrive home, she immediately was checking on the dryer since one walks right by it coming in from the garage. I was over in the dining room on the far side of the house, and she is telling me what’s wrong, but I can’t hear all of it, but could distinguish something about “the fan.” I am yelling “What? What?” I then go over to the laundry room to hear what she is telling me:

ALBA: “The fan is on.”

MELITAS: “What fan?”

ALBA: “The exhaust fan in ceiling.”

MELITAS: “Oh”

Well, it turned out I had never put my “hears” in that day.

So now, Sears is all primed to arrive Saturday morning, and the dryer is AOK. It is after 6 PM so I race no, that’s crawl – back to the office to call and cancel. Everything is peachy keen, I reached a real person (a gal this time) and I go on and on telling her the whole story, even about sticking my head inside the dryer. She was cracking up, and every once in awhile she would be gone from the line since she was relating the whole story to her entire office. I told about being 92 and the racing back and forth between income tax and doing the laundry. That phone call took about 20 minutes, and they didn’t mind at all having to cancel the appointment and losing the business because everyone got such a charge hearing all about my little caper while home alone.

I would imagine there will be another rule added to the “Home Alone Rule Book: “Hearing aids in at all times. PERIOD.” It’s funny that at the end of every rule in that book it has Period spelled out. PERIOD.

THE END