Hogtied In Cincinatti (part 1 of The Mouse Who Thought He Gave Could Fly)

Shortly before we closed the cottage for the winter the washing machine ‘gave up the ghost’.

There wasn’t enough time to call the local repair guy so I moved it to the back deck, threw a blue tarp over it, tossed a vintage aluminum chaise lounge on top of the tarp and cinched everything together with a bungee cord stretched around the middle making it look like a really fat man wearing a blue London Fog raincoat and very cheap belt.

We hopped into the car hurried south on I-75 to Detroit Metro Airport where we caught Spirit Airlines flight 3326710 back down to Florida the land of the midday sun. .

Not five miles from the cottage, after a heated discussion about how we were going to squeeze an extra $75 from our IRA account for this year’s tax bill, all thoughts about the washing machine dropped off of the radar.

(Wull, all things being relative don’t you think that a tax burden looming up on the horizon is a lot more threatening than the thoughs of running out of clean underwear in the Spring?)

Time moves on.

It wasn’t until Christmas that I remembered the washing machine after my friend Bill’s wife bought him a washing machine for Christmas.

“OH YEAH! THE WASHING MACHING!” I shouted out loud. Everyone had a perplexed look on their face. My friend Bill leaned over and whispered (a little too close to my ear for comfort), “Are you gonna get one too?”

I reared back and looked at his face. I didn’t feel comfortable with what I saw

I began avoiding Bill after that telling him I was too tired to go watch him mud bog. I hated that yellow Pinto he drove with those ridiculously huge tires anyway.

Continued …

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