Dorothy Harris

What’s eating us?

Father’s Day began with a pancake breakfast whipped up despite the distraction of the under-cabinet lights blinking on and off. Actually, they went off. Then they went on. They went off again, eventually cycling into the disco-dance routine. “This is making me crazy,” I fussed, despite my best efforts to enjoy the brightness during the moments it lasted, and then be nonchalant when it got dark.

I’m thankful that even with the seizure-inducing lighting, the pancakes came out nicely. It’s just a darn good thing I wasn’t trying to read any directions because without reading glasses- actually who am I kidding - even with reading glasses, good lighting is now a necessity. Cooking under strobe lighting is going to present challenges for this gal. I suspect getting this situation remedied will do as well.

Mr. Harris hates to let stuff like this go so that’s not the issue at hand. He knows, as likely you do too, if one puts off some minor broken thing until there’s a little extra time over a weekend, it snowballs. Trouble runs its mouth like a kid jacked up on caffeine and Pop Rocks. You start out with one little repair and before you know it, others have jumped on this bandwagon and the tune’s downright annoying.

I’m sure before Mr. Harris has time to locate a decent switch that won’t overheat after a month of use, other items will be begging his attention. As a matter of fact, I heard the toilet flapper doing a leaky thing this morning while I tried to sleep. It was only once and it was super short, but by golly, I heard it. No doubt about it, that dang switch has been talking and now the toilet flapper, which was just replaced mind you, has decided to complain as well.

I suspect our next complainant will be the microwave. It will catch wind of the attention others are receiving and will begin its intermittent inability to run. This microwave came with the house and no fooling; it’s got a serial number sticker with a build date of 1984. Yes, that’s what I said. This was before I graduated high school. It’s before we moved to Florida. It’s even before Mr. Harris and I started dating. The dang thing is old. It’s so old I’m hoping it might be worth something. Is there anyone out there who wants to buy my vintage Tappan space-saver over-the-range microwave? So far it still runs, but there’s no guarantee at this point.

These little irritations grow into big annoyances because we are trying to remain on a budget. Note the trying part, and mostly how we aren’t trying really hard. Our austerity plan gets seriously boring and while it works amazingly well, we get kind of worn out, not going out. We enjoy restaurants, which is not built into this budget. Thus when things start to sputter here and there, it further dings our progress and frustrates us. We know if we didn’t eat out, it would alleviate our self-induced stress over these additional expenses, but the call of the appetizer lures us away. Before you know it, we’ve found ourselves ordering from a menu and wondering where we can find a decent switch that won’t burn out after a month of use.

Ongoing repairs and upkeep around the home requires a steady income stream that runs into rapids every so often and sinks the best budget. Navigating these waters while they are calm requires dedicated effort. Wish us luck and let me know about the microwave.