In a Nightclub

Sometimes I can’t decide if my dryer just blurts out random stuff in a Tourette Syndrome sort of way, or if it is deliberately snide.

Yesterday, for instance. Its whine sounded for all the world like an accusation as “In a nightclub, in a nightclub!” assaulted my ears every time I entered the room. In a nightclub, indeed. I haven’t set foot in one in years.

Why am I taking this so personally? Consider the evidence. So far, my dryer has whined/blurted the following messages:

  • California, California!
  • Put the brakes on, put the brakes on!
  • You’re my best friend!
  • Elementary! Elementary!
  • Where the wind blows, where the wind blows!
  • In a nightclub, in a nightclub!

 

You’ll note no clues are given. What about California? Put the brakes on what? What do you mean, best friend? Admittedly my lifeleximphoto-446086-unsplash has narrowed a bit as I’ve gotten older but I hope the day never comes that I consider a squeaky dryer to be my best friend.

I just returned from the grocery store where I stood in the produce department watching an employee trying to catch a mouse under a bin of veggies. Now all I can wonder is, how often do mice run and skip over the fruits and veggies that are left out in the open?

You can see I have more to worry about than a snide, squeaky dryer.

 

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