A Weekend of Broken Stuff

Rusty B-61 Mack Truck in Farmington, Georgia

Rusty B-61 Mack Truck in Farmington, Georgia (Photo credit: UGArdener)

Easter weekend and the end of Passover: it should have been nice and peaceful and calm.

Instead, it turned into the Weekend of Broken Stuff at my house. The wine fridge quit, the spare printer ran out of toner and the kitty water fountain started making noises like a Mack truck going uphill in the wrong gear. Oh, The Husband’s favorite chair is on its final last legs, but I don’t count that as an issue, since I never get to sit in it. It’s always occupied by him, his cat or the two of them.

Notice I said “his cat,” not “our cat.” This is the kitty belonged to my mother, and we took her in after mom passed away. Turns out that even though I’m the caretaker, she’s very much a one-man feline, and definitely prefers him over me. She’ll cuddle and snuggle with him on his chair, or sit there alone, but leaves in a puffy huff if I even look like I might sit there.

As for the busted belongings, the printer needs a toner insert (cost is about $50-$60, depending on where it’s purchased; even Amazon.com isn’t a cheap alternative here), the fridge compressor is over and done (the electrics work, but there’s no cooling taking place) and the kitty fountain just needs to have about a pound or so of cat hair removed from the motor, and all will be well. I’m thinking of donating the printer to a good cause and letting said good cause deal with getting a new toner cartridge, since the printer still works just fine; a new printer would bring me into the twenty-first century with faxing, scanning and other cool capabilities. And as for the wine fridge, it only held twelve bottles, and I wanted one with a twenty-four bottle capacity, at least.

And as for The Husband’s chair? He’s going to have to figure that out. Whatever he picks, it needs to go with the living room furniture we have, and accommodate both his hindquarters and that of Miss SpoiledFurryButt. Beyond that, it just needs to be comfortable, in case I do get the opportunity to tempt the cat away long enough to try sitting in it.

I’m thinking a bag of catnip-dipped, tuna-scented kitty treats ought to do it.


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