This is not what I signed up for when I signed my mortgage papers.
In the past nine months, the "joys" of home ownership have manifested themselves as a temperamental garage-door opener, a broken washing machine, an oven on the blink, the same oven that finally gave up the ghost, a smoke-filled basement, a leaky dishwasher, and two fried water pumps. And that's just the appliances.
But today it's my dishwasher. The day the Man In My Life left to go moosehunting, on the eve of my father heading to the nation's capital on business, and the morning after the only man in the office left town for good.
Don't get me wrong - I paint my own walls, clean my own chimney and mow my own lawn. But I leave electrical stuff to those who can at least pretend to know what they're doing. In general, those people are the men in my life.
Here's how I dealt with the
My hair is surprisingly lush.
That could just be the pregnancy hormones.
A word to the wise? Don't get between a pregnant woman and her dishwasher. That's right, Water Flow, I'm talking to you.