When the other shoe drops, it really fucking hurts.

The hubby and I were just having the often dreaded conversation of money recently. Realizing we have too much going out, not enough coming in. Figuring out what all is going out to that is completely unnecessary like dry cleaning and a gym that gets no use compared to what is needed like Netflix, fast food and booze. So we made some executive decisions, promised to curb unnecessary spending and even talked about cutting out some excessive partying we've been doing lately. You know, making promises that we might keep for a week or two and will eventually fade away.

The reason why you should never have these types of conversations and make these promises to yourself is because inevitably karma is watching...and laughing her ass off.

I mentioned in last night's blog that my washing machine was making a funny noise. We've had ole girl for 11 years. I don't know what the life span of a washing machine is. She doesn't always act right. Leaking water occasionally or claiming to be done with all of her cycles only to find that she's full of water and the fabric softener hasn't been dispensed. We've had the repair guy come out to fix her more than once in 11 years. On his last visit he said it might not be much longer for her. Instead of trying to be gentle on her and only give her small loads, I've worked her like I always have - jamming way too much in her and crossing my fingers. Until last night. I kept tending to the noise. Hoping she was just off balance. Moving the clothes around that were stuffed inside, but knowing deep down that wasn't the sound of an off balance washing machine. When I went to unload the dryer, the washing machine sat silent. She shouldn't have been done yet. And there she was, full of water, the blue liquid looking at me sadly. I called Mike down. He's pretty handy and holds the responsibility in our relationship of fixing things. I work hard at my job of breaking things. I get better at my job every year.

He worked on her for a while, but to no avail.

Rest in peace ole girl. You've cleaned dirt, shit, puke, unidentified specimens, money, receipts, chapstick, a cricket, pens, and a toy. Along with all the clothes. You've done well and will be remembered....at least until you're out of my house and replaced with a shiny new washing machine which will hopefully be today as I'm much too precious to go to a laundry mat.

I've never even had sex on her. She's in a dirty laundry room. That's gross. There are clean rooms for that kind of activity. Okay, they aren't exactly clean but cleaner than the laundry room. Plus we're short and I don't even know how that would work out. Or is it the dryer you're supposed to have sex on? They are always doing that in TV shows, but I wonder if anyone really does it in real life. You guys can let me know if you've tried that and how it was.

Maybe I'll drown my money sorrows today by going out to lunch. That's the sensible thing to do. And I'll be damned if I'm not sensible.