On Thursday, the new installation company was scheduled to install our dishwasher. I was upstairs in my office when the doorbell rang.

I opened the door and laughed when I saw the same guys from the previous week. Evidently, “different installation company” is the same one that contracts out to BestBuy. Cue Three’s Company theme song, because it doesn’t get more farcical than that. And really, our landlord’s a younger, cheaper Stanley Roper.

In true Mr. Roper fashion, our landlord once again turned to CraigsList when our refrigerator died a painful, messy death (while dishwasher was still in middle of the floor). New one came literally on the back of a truck, half hanging off its lowered tailgate. It worked, but I think a smoker lived inside the refrigerator, because it stank. We aired it out, cleaned it out, used baking soda, and finally Smells BeGone. I swear, it’s called Smells BeGone. And it works!

Disasters tend to come in threes, and we’ve had dishwasher, fridge. What’s next? I’m hoping the first dishwasher death counts as number one, because then we’re set. Until the next big earthquake, that is. When the earthquake hits, I’m running to the street, because this house is coming down!

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