Tuesday, February 3, 2009

In For Repairs

Every day, in my mind, I blog. If I had one of those whatchamathingies, you know, an all-in-one tool with the fruity name that would literally take over my life in a sick minute, I'd update PHC everyday. I take pride in my chunky little cell phone whose only mission in life is to place and receive phone calls. No photos. No music. No texting, GPSing, or GOOGLEing. Not that I don't secretly covet those sleek devices, because I do. There are moments when I've had to catch myself from comparing the Pearl to the NO STOP DON'T GO THERE HEDGIE! Not safe, you see, for women with obvious obsessive-compulsive tendencies. A little distance from instant information can be a very good thing.

The universe, or Universe, has been knocking on the door these past weeks. A message of some sort needs to be delivered. I must be unusually daft because the taps have turned to bangs. The theme seems to be along the lines of "something is broken and needs to be fixed" or "look out for that sinkhole, idiot!" What would you make of these events?

The decrepit dishwasher coughed through its last cycle. This awful machine came with the house 9 years ago and has two cycles: on and off, with a rotary knob. Young Son was alarmed to see me approach it with a screwdriver, certain I would harm it instead of repairing it. Well, in my disgusted opinion, there was nothing left to repair. Out of curiosity I looked up the model number to see how old it was and learned that not only was it at least 20 years old it had been recalled for a serious electrical fault years ago. We were entitled to a $25 rebate and 1 year extended warranty on purchase of another dishwasher (different brand, or course). Most interesting was the fact that even latching the door shut was enough to cause a fire. Yikes. If the machine hadn't had a little help in going over the edge (I'm not saying I had anything to do with it) we would have replaced the fridge first. Or decided to latch it closed while we researched our replacement options. At first, all I could think about was the high and unexpected cost of replacing the hated thing. Now, I'm grateful it broke.

Roscoe our Wild One went to Doggie Daycare for a win-win event: I get 8 hours of quiet and a somewhat tired dog at the end of the day, Roscoe gets to run, run, run with his buddies in a supervised setting. Well, one of the pooches got carried away in all the fun and hooked his nail on Roscoe's lower eye lid, ripping it open. The folks cleaned him up but didn't call; Joe brought him home at 7pm and I took one look before heading off to the Emergency Vet. Ka-ching. He's still a conehead, the total is up to $500, and I have my doubts that the sutures are doing anything other than causing both mutt and mistress great distress. The daycare, to its credit, was quick to offer reimbursement of vet bills. Poor Roscoe. What price "pain and puppy suffering" in dollars? Poor us. The scraped furniture from the cone, the scraped skin from the cone, the raw nerves from the whining (from the cone). Broken, all right.

In the category of Broken and Fixed we have Danny who at almost 7 suddenly developed a dislike of reading. At home we began to battle over what used to be a fun activity. In school he was staring at the wall during choral reading (this I learned after asking his teacher if she had noticed anything unusual). Back to the eye doctor and yes, he could benefit from reading glasses. Maybe. After much deliberation he picked out one of the most expensive pairs of frames, showing me he has better taste than we have insurance. We'll see how this works for 6 weeks. Perhaps this will be an easy fix.

My literal broken tooth? Still broken, of course, and its former home still trying to heal. An implant is not possible without several nasty surgeries and when the oral surgeon discourages a procedure you know it's a bad idea. Now we're heading to bridge territory. Bridges rely on stable, healthy teeth between the replacement tooth. No wobbly, painful teeth need apply. The dental jury is still out on my support candidates.

So many more broken and fixed elements in my life, some I can discuss, some I won't. A weird week or two for sure. Hope next week will bring gentle rain. Until then, I'm going to row my little boat to shore.