Got the old hairs cut today. I just went for it and asked for an appointment with "Faith," and wouldn't you know it, I was right. It wasn't "Hope" after all. She did a respectable job. Again, I felt awkward while she was massaging my scalp and then washing my hair. Didn't close my eyes... just stared up at the ceiling, so she wouldn't think I was fantasizing about her. It's surprising hard to do, keeping your eyes open while someone is washing your hair. Try it some time. So, of course, instead of thinking that I was a horny shithead for closing my eyes, she probably just thought I was an insane shithead for keeping them open. You can't win with these hair-ladies.
The Sears guy came out to look at our broken washing machine today. He was a roly-poly sort of man, very friendly with some serious roly-poliage. He said there was an oil leak and the timing thing on the transmission was fucked up. Apparently, the agitator was trying to spin and agitate at the same time. Apparently, that's bad. The great thing is, though, that he actually said, "It was really smart of you guys to buy that extended warranty plan, 'cuz this is like the most expensive repair that could happen." So, for once in our goddamn lives, we did the right thing. Of course, now both cars will probably break down.
But we have to wait for the parts to be shipped out, so the Crabbyfamily had a field trip today to... THE LAUNDROMAT!! You can imagine that Mr. Z and Miss O were THRILLED to spend their Saturday doing laundry, but it was surprisingly not shitty. I think the "actually getting out of the house for a fucking change" part had something to do with it. We got there, and carried in our four overloaded laundry baskets of stanky nappies. I guess we didn't look like the average laundromat customers, 'cuz the smelly but very friendly Judd Nelson dude running the joint said, "I can help you guys out 'cuz I'm assuming your washing machine broke or something at home. That's usually the case with families that come in here." Look Judd, I've spent more time in laundromats than... your fucking dad who gave you a carton of smokes for christmas has, so enough with the patronizing toneage. But we gladly accepted his help -- fucking laundromats have changed since back in the day. They had these little debit key things, and these fancy drawers where the detergent went and shit. So, Judd set us up with his own, personal debit key, and then we bolted to go get some eats.
We got back, dumped the shit into the dryers and I played a game of "Sorry" with the spawnlets. Now, playing board games with Mr. Z is tough enough, 'cuz he completely flips his lid when he loses, but playing "Sorry" is probably the last board game he should ever play. "Hmm, what does this card say? Oh, I guess I get to move my piece all the way up to where your piece is, Mr. Z, and then I get to send you all the way back to the beginning. SOOOORRRRRRYYYYYY!" So that was a fucking blast, as you can imagine.
And that was pretty much it. I folded about 900 pairs of underwear, we bid adieu to Judd and we were outta there. Mr. Z and Miss O said they had a great time and want to do it again. Bizarre. Maybe next weekend I'll take them to get the oil changed on the car and blow their fucking minds.