She might be dead but I see her everywhere …
Last fall I bought my first home. The structure itself isn’t very old but the lady who owned it before me was quite elderly. Her name was Dot and she is dead.
I hate to be so blunt but I never met her. I am not trying to be disrespectful either. That is pretty much all I know about her. All of my neighborhood loved her. They speak very highly of her and my one neighbor originally from Boston exclaimed with fingers lightly at the edge of her mouth, “Oh, that Dot… she was a GEM … a gem of a woman!”
I bought the home from her heirs so, I don’t even know what Dot looks like.
Anyway, Dot left me a lot of gifts. Dot collected paper products, picnic-ware and bleach (four bottles in the washer/dryer area). I just now, months later, had to start buying my own paper towels and still have a kitchen drawer full of plastic forks, spoons and knives. I found two false gods (Mayan?) made out of concrete in the outside storage, two hurricane lamps, a concrete head of a Chinese woman, a potty chair (clean… thank goodness), a large American flag, lots of scotch tape around the corners of the front door window (I don’t understand), a lamp that is hideous (yes… I am using it in my bedroom), a chair that attacks you (nail sticking out at the foot.) But the funnest, not funniest, of all the leftovers Dot left behind … we will get to that in a minute.
I love Yankees!
Growing up in the south I never heard the referential title of “northerner” until I lived on Long Island for a few months back in the late ’80’s. Someone got tired of hearing me say, “Yankees are bi*#&!” The correction went more like this, “Northerners are not very happy are they?”
I didn’t last long on Long Island
But once I stopped projecting my own unhappiness of being on Long Island onto the Yank… er… Northerners, I can honestly say that I appreciate the Northeast … a LOT. Seriously, this affection for the culture up yonder started growing a long time ago and especially increased after moving to Florida. Orlando is the southern most burb of New York City don’tchya’ know?
One of the things I like about Northernors is that they tend to be straight forward with their opinions. You don’t have to guess where most of them are coming from. I love that. Just spill it … and they do with or without your permission.
So when the rugged, haggard man at the local Lowe’s said in a thick Bronx accent, “Hello young man! How can I help you?” My first thought was, “oh cool, I am going to buy a washer and dryer from a Soprano!.” I didn’t say it out loud but what I did say was, “I have never bought a washer/drayer and need to replace the ones that came in my new home. They look like someone dropped them off of a four story building and I am not sure I trust the dryer anymore.”
He replied, “How many in the home?” I replied, “Just me for now.” Without hesitation Mr. ShouldbeaSoprano walked me over to the second cheapest set. A GE combo. “This is exactly what you need. Don’t even look on the next row… you don’t need all that. If you have a family of 32, you might need those but this is what you need.”
I was very impressed he didn’t try to take me for a ride. I could have been completely suckered into gobs of debt with the cranberry red number that not only could wash your clothes, but dry your hair, drive you to work and have dinner on the table by six.
I asked, “why not the cheapest set?” He said, very candidly, “That is what you find in a laundry mat. You at least want a couple of options.
Bought/Sold/Delivered.
SURPRISE!
When the delivery truck came yesterday, I tried cleaning up around the relics of the old machines and very happy to know they would be leaving … especially the dryer. I was a little afraid to see what was under them. I don’t think I have a phobia but… the underside of appliances always make me think of black holes. That things, secret things, secret dark things with beady eyes and/or antennaes live there.
Not sure where that fear developed. Growing up our house was always clean, it was a form of punishment but that is a different story.
Dot had maintained a relatively clean home. I have poured a lot of work into it so far but … it was only “bad” a couple of times and not ever horrible. That was about to change.
The delivery dudes were going to haul off my old machines and install the new. At first I was worried there might be an old pair of Dot’s Granny panties or a cockroach under the dryer and how embarassing that would be.
For some reason, and this is not a fabrication, I hated the old dryer. It was, seriously, 500 years old. The rusted top, the possessed heating element and even the drum rumble was evil. If Stephen King were my roommate, I have no doubt a new book titled “Dot’s Damnation Dryer: Where Nothing is Delicate.” would be his next hit.
The delivery dudes were cool. I gave them water and prayed against any revelations of evil. They hauled out the washer, I swept and cleaned, they hooked up the new washer. No evil. I knew the washer was cool. But then came the dryer …
They were at that one a little longer, “Sir… sir?” uhoh, “Yes?”
“you might want to vaccuum the rug outside the door here” to get the rust up so it doesn’t stain the carpet.” Whew! “Ok.. will do.” As I was plugging in the vaccuum cleaner they hurried past me with the damnation dryer on a dolly. Interestingly neither would look me in the eyes and they seemed a little hurried.
Drat!!! There was a huge roach. I know this is Florida, you are going to find dead ones (hopefully dead) from time to time … but what is that thing in the corner?
After cleaning out the rust flakes, I put the vaccuum cleaner away, went and got the same broom to clean up the roach carcass and dust bunnies… but that thing … So I poked at it with the broom and it scooted out to the middle of the floor area with a sound that rang hollow. Horror was dawning in my eyes as I realized this was not a HUGE dust bunny. It was a hollowed out animal that now has stubs where four appendages used to be … but zero other features. That’s how old this carcass was.
My mind tried to compensate. I thought it might be a frog because I had seen a lot of frogs around. For some reason, I would have been better, not ok, if it had been a frog. I poked at it again and it flipped over. I didn’t squeal like a four year old girl out loud, just inwardly. The delivery dudes came back up and I was still in shock trying to clean it up with fully extened arms and without looking. They waited for me to finish cleaning up the aftermath and then installed the new dryer.
I said, “that mouse has been there a LOOONNNNNGGGGG time. Gross but cool huh?” The lead delivery dude just raised his hands in a “not me” fashion. My attempt at the masculine gross out humor wasn’t reciprocated. I think we all wanted to just be done with this embarassing moment.
A roach and a mammalian carcass. At least there weren’t any Granny panties.
CSI: Orlando
The only way I knew that the carcass was that of a mouse was by the mouth I saw when it was flipped over. That explained why this was not a dead grey frog. I didn’t sniff around but I hadn’t smelled any “death” since moving in here. I have only smelled dead wild mammals a few times in my life. I have heard that mice stink in general but especially when dead. So this led to the obvious conclusion:
Dot, just like the concrete false god, did not have a nose.
I know she was the only tenant here before me so, I figured the time of death for the mouse had to have been sometime during the Reign of Dot.
I don’t think I want any more leftovers from Dot.
CLEAN
Well, at least now I know that the underside area of my new washer and dryer are free from carnage and clean.
::: eyeing the seven year old dishwasher suspiciously :::
I bet this is the longest blog post you have ever read over someone getting a new washer and dryer. 
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