It's raining inside my house. No, it's not the roof. The roof is fine. The roof is functional. The roof does it's job. We love the roof.
No, the rain is coming from the socks.
You see we've got a dryer problem. We have a lovely front-loading washer and dryer system from Sears. They use less water and less electricity. They are environmently friendly, cost effective, and efficient. Right now they are efficiently doing nothing because the dryer decided it didn't feel so much like being a dryer; maybe this week it'd try being the world's largest paper weight instead.
In truth, this personality crisis is not entirely the dryer's fault. The dryer is just a pawn in this sad tale, a victim. Allow me to relate to you a brief summary of the dryer odyssey:
The Tragic Tale of the Dryer Odyssey
Principal Characters:
The Doleful Dryer (victim)
The Evil and Dastardly Sears Corporation (the bad guy)
Hank, the Not-So-Helpful Handyman
Mr. Unfortunate, owner of dryer
Mrs. Unfortunate, owner of dryer
30 wet socks (chorus)
Act 1:
Mr. and Mrs. Unfortunate sell the family cow and opt not to buy magic beans but instead purchase dryer with special magic sensor. Magic sensor will tell dryer to stop drying when clothes are dry. Mrs. and Mr. Unfortunate are very happy. Dryer arrives. Magic sensor has less magic that it ought to. Magic sensor lies to the doleful dryer, telling it clothes are not dry. The doleful dryer struggles on despite magic sensor problems and dries for hours in attempt to please Mr. and Mrs. Unfortunate. Mrs. Unfortunate's jeans no longer fit. Mrs. Unfortunate blames shrinkage on magic sensor. (It could be true.)
Act 2:
Mr. Unfortunate calls the Evil and Dastardly Sears Corporation and waits on hold for a very long time. Sears sends handyman. Handyman blames dryer vent. Dryer vent is cleaned by chimney sweep. Magic sensor continues to lie to dryer. Mr. Unfortunate calls the Evil and Dastardly Sears Corporation and waits on hold for a very long time. Sears sends handyman. Handyman says that the dryer's motherboard might be out. The doleful dryer does not appreciate it's mother being discussed in a derogatory manner. Handyman replaces temperature gauge (not magic sensor, and not motherboard.) Mr. and Mrs. Unfortunate are confused. Handyman leaves. Between the constant lies from Magic Sensor and horrible comments about mother, the Doleful Dryer has a nervous breakdown, refuses to dry, and suffers from personality crisis where he believes himself to be world's largest paper weight. Mr. and Mrs. Unfortunate are beside themselves with grief.
Act 3:
Mr. Unfortunate calls the Evil and Dastardly Sears Corporation and waits on hold for a very long time. Sears promises to send handyman. Mr. and Mrs. Unfortunate wait. Handyman does not arrive. Mr. Unfortunate calls the Evil and Dastardly Sears Corporation and waits on hold for a very long time. Sears tells Mr. Unfortunate that he never had an appointment. Sears promises to send handman. Mr. and Mrs. Unfortunate begin to think they should have bought magic beans. If planted, they could have climbed magic bean stalk to Giant's house, who undoubtedly has a magic sensor that works. Begin musical sequence where Mrs. Unfortunate sings about the Giant's dryer, backed up by the wet sock chorus.
To be continued....
So you see my problem. It's not only raining outside but inside. There are wet clothes draped over everything that will hold still in my house. There are pants wilting in the bathroom, shirts strung up in the bedroom, sopping dishrags draped over doorknobs, and thirty wet socks hiding on the surface of the world's largest paper weight. Why are the socks hiding, you ask? Because in addition to a neurotic dryer, I also have a cat with a sock fettish. She loves them. She hunts them down. She herds them like sheep. She baths them like kittens. She drags them around, artfully stacks them, and hides them around the house. She can smell them. I left the socks quivering in fear on top of the dryer but that will not save them. She is nimble. She is skilled. She will find them and use them for her evil purposes. I bet she's running around the house right now with a sock in her mouth muffling her mirfs of joy. They're all over the house by now. There is nothing that I can do but round up those of the drool-soaked, cat-fur-covered carcasses I can locate at the end of the day and wash them again. Of course the dryer doesn't work, so I'll have to lay them out to dry...