DO NOT DO NOT WANT AN EXTENDED WARRANTY, NOR DO I WANT A SERVICE PLAN, NOT AT ALL, DON’T WANT THAT. DO. NOT. WANT. THAT. THERE IS NOTHING IN THIS WORLD I WANT LESS THAN AN EXTENDED WARRANTY. EXCEPT FOR A SERVICE PLAN. AND A SEARS CARD." "It’s a service plan," Bertha muttered. "Not an extended warranty." Of course, Fred was driven to the point of breaking not because he’s an unreasonable man, but because as we were looking at the washers and dryers, Bertha tried to steer us toward the $1200 versions. $1200 for one single washer. What the fuck’s up with that? For $1200, I hope to hell the washer’s going to come get the laundry from the laundry baskets, load itself, and pass the clothes onto the dryer when the washin’ is done. And do the freakin’ dusting while it’s at it. I was off in the clearance section checking out the $250 washers, and Bertha announced that I was on the wrong side of the street. That’s a good way to sell a washer, you see. Tell the folks they’re in the slums when they don’t want to spend AN ENTIRE HOUSE PAYMENT on one single washer. There are things I’m willing to blow $1200 on – a vacation, a computer, a television, furniture. A washer just is not now nor ever will be one of those things. "I bought the cheapest washer and dryer y’all had when I got mine," Fred informed Bertha. "And it’s been ten years, and they’ve held up fine all along until now." Whereupon Bertha gave some song-and-dance crap about how the cheapest washers and dryers that they make now are made more cheaply than they were ten years ago because there’s more competition, and yadda yadda bullshit. Anyway, we bought a washer and dryer that are one step up from the cheapest (non-clearance) ones they had, and they’ll be delivering them tomorrow. I didn’t dare to take a nap when we got home, because I was afraid I’d never get up and thus wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. So we spent the rest of the day unpacking – I got the kitchen done, and Fred hooked up the TV and sound system – then had sandwiches for dinner, and went to bed fairly early. I fell asleep right away and woke a few times, only briefly, to turn over and fall back asleep. Each time, I heard Fancypants going at it, the little bastard. At 4:15, he started again right in my face, and I got up, went downstairs and read for an hour until I could hardly keep my eyes open, whereupon I went back to bed until almost 8. Fred called the vet’s office yesterday and got a nice supply of kitty de-spazzifiers. He shoved one down Fancypants’ throat last night, and all was quiet for the night. Thank god for modern medicine. And now you’re caught up!]]>