Where no woman should go

The Hubby takes off for parts unknown( he does that a lot) and I am left holdin' the bag! The dryer decided to blow a gasket the other day, and guess who had to saddle up a mule and ride to the rescue? Queenie, of course. I had a plan. It didn't help any, but I had one....

I am a smart gal, aside from what you read here, and I did the whole" I am female and therefore I will read the instruction sheet prior to beginin' a project" and even made a list of recommended common sense tools I would likely need to accomplish the job.

So, I pull the plug. Very important, so as not to turn myself, or Lucy, who is of course right in the middle of the #%@*ing project into crispy appetizers for the vultures who will no doubt swoop in and make a meal outta us both( they aren't particular about what they eat!) I then proceed pulling the dryer out from the wall. Great, now there is enough room to slide a small anorexic gnats ass into the space provided. Fabulous. No normal sized human could even think of getting into this space.

I, of course, somehow manage it, and in the process begin to reminisce about when I was young, fearless, and the size of a gnats ass. I have my now enormous ass, balanced by the grace of God on the back of the dryer, my legs hoisted by prayer onto the Washer, and my arms are clutching at the walls in sheer desperation for purchase. I will die in this asinine position. This will be my fate. Fat Woman killed trying to do Hubby's job. Sheesh.

Meanwhile, Lucy is up on her hind legs, staring woefully at me. I know this looks like concern for my uterus, which will never be the same shape again, but in reality, she is only in fear for her Stomach. If I get stuck, she dies of starvation. This will take many weeks for her, as she is no 3 pound lap mule, but of this she has no concept. Here I go, totally convinced that I will fall into the 3 inches of filth that lives behind the damn machine( why is that where all the dirt in my house ends up?) I should stop cleanin' the rest of the house and just wait to suck it all up once a year from behind this sock stealing Bitch. But, I digress....

I get back there. I see the problem. The stupid hose made of foil, attached with a plastic shoelace had( remarkably, as its designed so well) come undone. I know what to do.

I get the tools I laid onto the washer. Surprisingly, my Swiffer duster will not help the repair process at all. Neither will the broom. I sigh( ok, I cussed like a sailor who missed leave) and figure, here I am, may as well clean. I will never get into this hole again. I need my dryer, so I attempt to crawl out, get the actual tools I need to fix the cheap contraption, and begin the process of contorting my uterus to squeeze back there again.

At this point, Lucy is whining. She knows the end is near. Who Can Blame Her? It is.

I get the tin foil hose off. I see the problem. A hole. Too much suction. Who knew that could be a bad thing? LOL! I will simply take the scissors I remembered to get, and cut it off and re-attach it. Simple.

Well, dammit! You would have thought so. But No! They use wire COATED with TIN FOIL to make the stupid hose, so naturally you need FREAKING WIRE CUTTERS! Now I am seriously contemplating how much money I really save by drying my clothes at home, and if the convenience of it outweighs never having to do this to my innards again....

GET OFF ME! I got the damn wire cutters. Trip # five million it seemed like, and there I am, ready to wrap this crap up. I feel like I'm taking a crap with an army about to attack me, I am so comfortable in this shoe box.

I fixed it. Really, I did. The only problem is, I remembered too late, that in order to prevent a fire, I need to remove the back cover of the foul thing, and suck out all the lint. Well, hmmmm.....how many fires really result from that? I could put that off until say...My Hubby gets home in December, couldn't I?? Please?


Queenie. Contorted Again!