“Okay, I need your help,” I tell my husband with a huff of frustration. “I can’t get the dryer to work and I’m middle of laundry.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he says and follows my stomping footsteps toward the offending appliance.
“It won’t turn on.” I gesture dramatically at the now-useless metal box filled with dripping clothes that should be hot and tumbling, like circus acrobats doing a performance at Burning Man. “I’ve tried everything. I twisted the knob all the way around to try and reset it. I’ve unplugged it and plugged it back in. I’ve hit all the buttons and none of them will click to turn the damned thing on!”
I see-saw the open door back and forth and listen to the metallic creak. “It’s an old dryer. Maybe we need a new one.”
My husband looks at me. He looks at the open door. “Um, has that been open the whole time you’ve been trying to turn the dryer on?”
My hand freezes on the door. Right before it zooms up to smack my own forehead. “Yes.”
“Thank you for calling tech support.” My husband kisses me on the cheek. “Is there anything else I can help you with today, ma’am?”
“Maybe… and we talking financially, emotionally, or — ahem — physically?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.
“Definitely physically,” he says with renewed enthusiasm. “Whatever you need, we aim to please.”
“You know what’s one of the sexiest things in the world?” I ask, leaning in.
He gives me **that** smile. “What’s that?”
“A husband who does the laundry.”
It’s now my turn to kiss him on the cheek and slow-saunter away.
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Hope this finds you happy & healthy, with working household appliances and too many books to read!
Hugs,
Olivia