Two Things that Contribute to High Blood Pressure

First, my three year old VERY expensive Maytag washer is dead. How do I know it's dead? The week of October 6th it overflowed, and afterward started getting a code that I couldn't decipher, so I went online to try to figure out what the code meant. That's when I found the hundreds of complaints about my washer. Complaint after complaint, one bad story after another. So I went to the Maytag website and contacted the person listed as public relations, and I wrote her a very nice letter explaining my problem. No, seriously, it was a very nice letter. And someone from the executive offices of Maytag/Whirlpool called me back and was really nice and wanted to "see what he could do to get me back in business". He called while I was unloading my first load of laundry at the laundromat. That was the week of OCTOBER THE SIXTH. The friendly Maytag Repairman (and he is really quite friendly), came to my house two days later and it is now November 17th. He has been to my house six times and has replaced the cutoff valve, the pump, the computer board, the clutch and the transmission. She still no worky. I have schlepped laundry for six to the "Laundry Room" once or twice a week.

In the plus column, I have shelled out no money. In the minus column, I have schlepped laundry for six to the "Laundry Room" once or twice a week for the last 7 weeks. Did I tell ya'll the story where Peach woke up the Sunday after the family reunion and puked all over her bed. Yep, another trip to the "Laundry Room". The lady that works at the "Laundry Room" doesn't beleive I have a broken washer anymore. "Whatever lady, face it, you're slummin at the laundromat." Not that there's anything wrong with that. I am currently waiting for the phone call that tells me what the next part they'd like to try to replace this week.

Number two, this lady wrote a letter to the editor that really made me mad. Okay, this is how I can tell that I'm a little bit on the edge right now. Not that I've never read a letter to the editor that made me mad. But I actually responded with a letter of my own. This is not good. I live in a town of just over 5000 people, I can't make a friend if my life depended on it, now I've gone and ruined any chance I have by writing a freakin letter to the editor to start a feud between the Football parents and the Band parents. It's not good. It seemed like a good idea at the time. In fact at the time, there wasn't anything else I could do. The paper comes out Thursday, so I read it Thursday and stewed on it the rest of the day. Then at 3:00 a.m. when I did my nightly run to the restroom, I spent the rest of the night composing nasty reply letters in my head. I stewed on it some more on Friday while I was trying to bake a cake for Peaches Birthday Party on Saturday, then at 3:00 a.m. I did my nightly run to the restroom and again started composing my letters. After two nights of no sleep, I got up to start hanging up balloons and streamers for the party and I burst into tears because that letter made me so mad and I just couldn't get a grip. So I decided the best thing to do was to just sit down, write the letter and then maybe I could let it go. The next thing I knew I was hitting the send button.

It does say that they receive so many letters that they can't print all the letters to the editor. That's the only hope I have, is that they were inundated with letters and that mine won't make the cut. I won't know until Thursday. Yeah, they won't take the letter unless you submit your real name, address and phone number. I didn't go with any of the nasty versions of the letter, so instead of compelling, it will just be embarrassing. I took cookie bars to my three new neighbors today. Hedging my bets with cookies.