This afternoon — late — I tried to call Michael’s to cancel my order. I decided I would, after all, rather have a new dishwasher than a beautiful but badly framed picture for our living room wall. Especially as our old Gaffers and Sattler started emanating something that smelled suspiciously like woodsmoke yesterday.
Unfortunately, the man I spoke to in the framing department said it was too late. The deed was done. The picture had just left “the warehouse” an hour ago. Warehouse? What kind of Kafkaesque nightmare have I sent our cartographic gem into?
Sob. Goodbye $560. Goodbye self-respect. Goodbye new, mid-range dishwasher. Hello, tackily framed drainage map with ugly faux-glass cover. Or that’s my fear, anyway.
The only good news? It was woodsmoke. In the dishwasher. I found a wooden spoon trapped near the motor there this morning. It’s fried, but the dishwasher lives on.
It had better. At this rate it’ll need to last another 50 years.