So, I’ve been cursing my laundry quite a bit lately.  It has become the bane of my existence and it seems that my entire purpose in life has been whittled down to that of laundry lady.  Apparently, my washer and dryer heard me, and my dear 11 year old dryer decided to try to solve my problem for me.  (It must be male.)  I guess it figured if I couldn’t DO laundry, laundry would no longer be a problem.  Leave it to a male to miss the point entirely.  *tongue implanted firmly in cheek* 

Zan took the poor thing apart, and is attempting to fix it.  Thank HEAVENS I don’t have to run out and buy one of those expensive and lovely front load supercapacity washer and dryer sets that would allow me to do three loads at once making my life so much easier.  Oh, no…we wouldn’t want THAT.  Aren’t I so lucky to be married to the world’s greatest fix-it man?  😉