Loretta and I--Off to a Rocky Start

Yesterday there was a gun show close to where I live. My Dad, Grandpa, and I went to it together. We had gone to one awhile ago and I had found a gun that I liked, but did not end up buying. We thought that we could get a better deal at our local gunsmith. However, the availability of the gun is very limited as it has been discontinued. 

So the goal for yesterday was to find the people that had been selling the gun I liked last time. Hopefully, they would still have it and I could finally have the pistol I wanted for my CCW. If you've never been to a gun show, it can be pretty overwhelming at first. People sell all kinds of guns. Yesterday, I even saw a collector that was looking to buy Japanese arms, particularly from WWII. 

I'm not going to lie...a lot of the customers are old guys, hill billies, and people that probably have no business owning a firearm at all because they don't know much about them. The last type are the people that give the rest of us a bad name.  These are the people that think it's "cool" to own a gun, and don't properly know how to handle one. 

A particular couple from yesterday reminded me of this even though I'm no expert on guns, either. There was a man, probably in his late twenties, with a female companion. He had something to say to her about every single gun...but he was pretty much just reading what the information cards on the guns were saying. My father and I were looking at a Bursa .380 Thunder, which is a semi-auto pistol that can be used for CCW. We were minding our own business and checking out the price (roughly around $350 if I remember right) when Mr. Know-it-all interjects with:

"Man. That Thunder kicks really hard!"

He meant that the recoil or reaction of the gun after you shoot it was strong. Basically, when a shot is fired from the gun, the gun is forced backwards and up in your hand because of the pressure in the barrel as the gun goes off and the bullet is pushed forward. 

Now, my Dad and I just kind of looked at each other, and I had to suppress a giggle as the man and his companion moved on to the next gun. Like I think I've mentioned before, I'm a pretty small person, and I don't have much experience shooting. However, prior to looking for guns, I had shot a .380, and it kicked about as much as a baby in the womb. Either this guy was a total wimp, and should only be shooting bb guns or maybe an air soft pistol (shoots small plastic pellets and are commonly used by young teens like paintball guns) or else he just didn't have a clue about what he was saying. I'm going to go with he didn't have a clue because he wasn't a small guy. Haha. 

Anyway, we found the dealer from last time and luckily, they still had the gun I wanted, which was a .380 Firestorm. If you have read my other posts related to firearms and CCW permits, you'll know that my Mom also took the CCW class. We (my father and I) decided that my mom would probably like the same gun. So, he ended up buying one for me, and one for my mom (thanks Dad!). Of course, the gun is registered in my name...so if I do anything bad with it (which I won't), he can't get in trouble. 


I also bought a holster for Loretta (my name for the gun) which fits inside the waistband and an extra magazine for her. Then on the way to my parents to try her out, I stopped at my gunsmith's business and purchased some target-grade ammunition. I'm not going to buy any self-defense grade ammo until I have my permit in my pocket (still haven't turned in my application because I'm not a morning person and I can only take it to the sheriff between like 7-11 on Mon-Th.). 


Let's jump to target practice. There I was, with my two magazines loaded, each with 7 cartridges (bullets). I assumed proper shooting stance (standing with feet shoulder width apart, with the gun held with two hands directly in front of my body) and I took aim at my father's target. 


Bang!

My very first bullet ever fired out of Loretta hit the bulls-eye. AWESOME!! I thought that I wouldn't have any trouble with her after my first shot. However, the more rounds I shot, the more my aim was off. Loretta kept shooting wayyyyy low, and I wasn't even hitting my target anymore. :-( I'm not sure why this happened, but I even tried to adjust my aim both by aiming higher on the target and then utilizing the sights differently to try to compensate for what was happening. I took turns shooting with my Mom, who was shooting her new gun, and with my Dad, who was shooting a gun he had bought a few days before yesterday. One of my brother's friends was also shooting my Dad's gun. However, I shot probably four magazines of bullets and couldn't get my aim back on track. Plus, Loretta even jammed a few times. :-( I was not pleased...and the sunny and enjoyable day ended up pissing me off because I was frustrated with shooting. I called it quits and tried to calm myself down. 

It was my first day with Loretta, and she let me down. But I'm going to try again soon, and hopefully I can figure out what was going wrong yesterday. I haven't given up. There could even be something wrong with Loretta. If so, I need to find out and have the problem fixed. 


Anyway, I do like the gun I picked out...I just need to make friends with her before I start carrying her around once I have my CCW permit. 


Here are some pictures of the type of gun I bought:

I like this gun because it is pretty small and light. The rubber grips are fantastic and I really feel like I can hold onto it properly without worrying about my grip moving. The finger grooves guide my hand so that I hold it properly. Likewise, as you can see in the picture to the left, the rear sights form a U-shape which I like much better than the traditional 3-dot setup. While the sights are not streamlined like some other CCW firearms, they stand out and allow me to aim better. The magazine holds seven cartridges but it is also possible to have one in the chamber, making it a 7+1 capacity gun. The magazine also extends the grips, so the gun is long enough for my entire hand to fit on. Of course, the gun also has a safety, which was a necessity for me. Some guns do not have a safety at all, or if they do, it is located on the trigger, which I don't like. Instead, the safety is traditional and is located on the left side of the gun as a switch near the chamber. (I do not own the photographs I have used in my post. They belong to www.gunreports.com).

Editing the Works of Others: A Love/Hate Relationship...and Grammar Nazis

As an English major and English tutor, I am constantly being asked to either give feedback to the writing of my peers, or help a tutee (it's a real word) go through his/her paper in order to make corrections and become a stronger writer (with the goal of not needing my help in the future).

I've also been told by professors and students alike that I'm extremely good at editing. This, of course, I know. While I do make my own silly mistakes, generally I'm a very strong writer--I can see/hear when something isn't right. I can even tell the difference between a regular and an italicized period, depending on the font being used. I blame this (I think really cool) ability on different factors:

     1.) I was encouraged to begin reading at a very young age (four maybe) and quickly surpassed other kids my age in skill level.

     2.) I love to read, and I read a lot. Therefore, I know how things are supposed to look on the page. Likewise, I know what needs to be in a complete sentence, and how to properly use commas (something that many of my peers are jealous of me). Sometimes I can identify what is wrong and how to fix it, but I can't explain why it's wrong or why my solution will fix it--this can become a hassle when tutoring.

     3.) I only slightly give credit to having a "gift," or a "natural ability". I'm just a language person! 

I do enjoy editing and I even find myself picking up on editing mistakes in the books that I read purely for pleasure. I'm one of those people known as a "grammar Nazi". I'm not perfect, like I said before...and I do make a lot of mistakes, especially when I'm in "the zone". However, I have an even more uncanny ability to find the mistakes of others...sometimes to my peers' delight or disgust. For instance, I'm taking a creative writing class right now. We had to turn in a short 5-8 page story. No big deal. We also had to go back and read the stories of all of our peers and then comment on what we thought were the strengths and weaknesses of them. When I read the comments I received, they were all pretty much one paragraph in length, with not many specific references to my material. In sharp contrast, my six peers received their entire papers back with comments in the margins, ranging from content to grammar comments, and everything in between. In addition, at the end of their stories, I wrote a long summarizing passage about what I thought of the story overall, and what I suggested focusing mainly on for revision. I'm not sure if they are going to be pissed that I went crazy with comments about comma usage and the differences between "there", "their", and "they're", or if they are going to appreciate the fact that I just did most of their revising work for them. I have received mixed feelings before because peers (these were non-English majors in this case) thought that I was being "too harsh/critical," and that I was "mean". However, once a person is in a junior level course, they should already know that a paragraph has to be more than two sentences long, and that a page requirement means you have to AT LEAST meet that length. I do get annoyed when I have to waste my time going over someone's work when I can clearly identify that he/she waited until the last minute and didn't even bother to follow directions or proofread his/her work before it was turned in. I do have to watch my tone sometimes. 

When I was going through the short stories (and they were rough drafts), I would start off relatively happy. Then everything would begin to change because I would start finding the same type of error sentence after sentence. Because I really am a grammar nazi, things like that really interrupt my ability to focus on the actual content. I just can't move past that damn comma splice! I just can't let that tense agreement error go unnoticed! I find myself adding comment after comment on just grammar, and it ends up taking me 2 1/2+ hours on reading just ONE person's story. My muscles tighten up and I'm sure my face must resemble the most horrible looking troll-woman on the planet. I do try my hardest to keep my attitude OUT of my comments, but sometimes I can't help doing something like this:

Here is your writing: "I love cats because they are the best and they like to run and then I like to pet them they are cute". -_- SERIOUSLY? RO (run-on). You need to break this up into multiple sentences. I know this is just a rough draft but I know you can write better than this". 

Or:

You need to look up the difference between "err" and "air". You just said, "She has a weird mistake about her" instead of, "She has a weird air (feeling/atmosphere) about her". Please don't use idioms unless you know how to write them. 

If you are grammar crazy like I am, you'll understand where I'm coming from. I mean, come on, English is his/her NATIVE language!! 

Usually, I end up going back and toning them down, or trying to make them funny so that I don't sound like a total bitch, which by that point is what I've turned into. Even my dog cowers when I'm catching stupid mistakes, because I will actually yell out loud, "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?" when I'm sitting at home reading crap off of my computer. I seriously do have anger issues when it comes to grammar. 

However, generally I really do enjoy reading/editing because I like helping writers make what they're really trying to say more clear: sometimes it's just so bad that I have no clue what it really is that they are trying to say!

This might scare you, but:   

One day, I want to edit for a publishing company. I'm not sure how the outlook is for that type of work, but it's one of my many aspirations. I think it would be wayyyyy too fun to read fiction for work! I mean, yes I will have to edit it, thus making it longer to read, but still...that's the job for me! 

Protecting Myself--Part II

I kind of left off in a weird place in my last post. I was talking about having the choice of taking a CCW (concealed and carry) class with some of the women in my family. 

I was thinking about taking the class because I had to make the decision within a couple of days. I finally agreed to taking the class even though I was really nervous about having to take a test about firearms. I figured (hoped) that something would come up and we wouldn't end up taking the class. After it was finalized that we were taking the class and we paid our deposits, I thought I would have another out...I needed to find someone to cover me for the class on Saturday. It would be a 12 hour course starting Friday evening and continuing all day Saturday (from 9:00am-8:30ish pm). Well, as I'm sure you can guess, I found someone to work for me. There was no way out of it!

I was scared. Really scared. I was having nightmares every night leading up to the class. Someone would attack me and I'd pull out a gun. The gun wouldn't work. Someone broke into my parents house and were hurting my Mom and I'd pull out a gun. I missed the bad guy and shot my Mom. These were REALLY upsetting dreams. By the time Friday rolled around, I was a nervous wreck. What if I didn't pass the test? What if I couldn't hit the target when I had to do my shooting at the range? What if a giant cockroach scared me and I accidentally fired a gun in a bad direction, putting others in danger? Yiiiikkkkeeesssss...

When I arrived at the place where we were to take the class, I realized that I would be taking it with other people...STRANGERS. I had thought that the class was going to be only for my Mom, Aunt, and me. I was wrong. Before the class even started, my anxiety levels began to rise even higher. I was going to have to shoot a gun in front of strangers?!? 

Friday went pretty smoothly though. There wasn't any shooting and no test, other than a pretest which I failed miserably. I really did learn a lot. We went through important information on the safe handling of firearms. We also learned about different types of revolvers and semi-automatic pistols. The material was really interesting. Okay. I can handle this. We also practiced loading and unloading a revolver and a semi-automatic pistol. I did this over and over again because I wanted to make sure that I was comfortable with the motions. We also learned about misfiring--or when you pull the trigger and the bullet doesn't leave the muzzle. We learned that if this happened, we had to wait at least 30s. before unloading the gun and checking to see if the bullet was stuck in the chamber of the gun. If you don't wait, the gun can still fire. If you're not paying attention and you look down the barrel or point the gun in an unsafe direction, you can end up shooting yourself or somebody else. 


I was nervous about getting a misfire on the shooting range the next day. Would I remember what to do? Would I end up shooting my face off? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! I was scared all over again. Plus, we had to take the written exam the next day as well.


Friday night was a repeat of the nightmares that I had been experiencing all week. After barely any sleep, I had to get up and layer on warm clothes. After all, I would be shooting a gun later that day in the freezing cold! I was afraid my finger would freeze onto the trigger!


Our class was divided into two groups. The first group would go onto the range to fire the required rounds while the second group took the written test. My Mom, Aunt, and I were in the second group so we got ready to take the exam. It was open book, so it wasn't difficult. I passed it 100%. My Aunt missed one question and my perfectionist Mom missed two (I rubbed it in). 


Then we found out that the other group was returning from the range, and that we would be going to do our two hours of range time in a few minutes. The anxiety swept over me all over again. I was cold even in the testing building but I could feel my palms starting to sweat. We drove to the range. It was a complete mud hole. I found out that my partner would be shooting first, and I would be loading his magazines for him. My mother would also shoot while my Aunt loaded for her. Okay. I can do this. I'll just watch him shoot and everything should be okay, right? BANG!!!! BANG!!! 

I think I almost peed myself as he fired the first couple of rounds. We were wearing proper eye and ear protection but the shots still startled me. What if I jump while I'm shooting and miss the target? I've come this far...I can't chicken out now. I have to do this for myself. I'm strong. I'm strong. I'm strong.

My partner raced through his 100 rounds and hit the bulls-eye over and over again with razor-like precision. He already knew what he was doing--he just had to take the class so he could apply. He didn't really need to--he already knew a lot about guns. He even brought his own semi-automatic and his own ammunition.  

 Before I knew it, it was my turn to shoot and my partner's turn to load for me. I was so nervous. I waited for the go-ahead to fire, loaded my magazine, released the chamber slide, and took aim.


I can do it. I can do it. Just pull the trigger. Remember what you learned: Breathe in, breathe half way out, hold the breath, fire, and breathe out the rest of the way. Breath, pause, fire, release. Breathe, pause, fire, release.   


I looked down my front sight and made sure the front sight was properly lined up with the bulls-eye, and that the rear sights were properly lined up on either side of the front sight. I took a breath, held my breath for like 20 seconds, and then finally got up the nerve to pull the trigger.


BANG! 


Holy crap, I did it! Hmmm...okay...I can do this again. It's not so bad.

My partner loaded up another magazine for me, this time with two cartridges. Every new magazine held a larger number of cartridges. I had to create "groupings" on the target. This means, my bullets had to hit in the same area on the targets. Of course, ideally, you hit the bulls-eye, but to pass the shooting portion of the class you have to make sure you have bundles within the target within the 9inch paper plate. 

After firing off a few magazines, I began to have more fun. I realized that my bullets were consistently hitting very close to the bulls-eye, and a few even landed right in the middle! We were shooting from a bench, so it was easier to keep my aim because my hands were more steady. I supported the .22 on makeshift cushions, so I wasn't holding up the weight of the gun as much as I would have if I were standing and shooting. 


This is kinda fun! Hmm... Bang! Bang! Awesome! I hit the bulls-eye again!

It didn't take long for me to pass that part of the test. Next, I had to aim at a new target and practice rapid fire. I had five cartridges in the magazine.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Oh. My. Gosh. That. was. so. much. FUN!!! Ohhhh, I wanna do it again!

I was pretty good at the rapid fire as well. This was important because if I ever need to defend myself, I won't have time to pause between shots--I need to be able to keep aim in between quickly fired rounds. There was a whole magazine that ended up hitting the plate too high. I was upset with myself, but the instructor had my partner check the rear sights because she said they tend to loosed up. She was right--the sights needed tightened down. That explained why a whole magazine of bullets ended up hitting the target too high even though I was aiming at the bulls-eye. After the sights were tightened back up, my bullets were hitting in the middle of the plate once more. I passed the rapid fire portion of the test as well. So, with my remaining rounds, I was allowed to do whatever I wanted. I decided to practice shooting standing up with a two-handed grip. This would be more like the shooting I would probably have to do if I were attacked. 

The two-handed grip is more steady than a one-handed grip. However, the two-handed grip standing up was less steady than having the pillow to support the gun from a sitting position at the bench. It was cold, and the gun's weight was resting in my hands. While I did hit the target fairly well, my aim wasn't as good as when I had been sitting because my hands weren't as steady. It was cold, and my hands were shaking! I still had fun though, and like my partner said, "If I were an attacker and you were shooting at my chest, they all would have hit me and I'd be dead". I was angry at myself for not doing as well, but he did have a point. 

Needless to say, I did pass the class. I haven't actually applied for my permit yet, but I'm sure it will go through when I do. The next step for me is to find out how high of a caliber pistol I can handle. The higher the caliber, the more the gun will kick, and the more the gun kicks, the harder it is to keep a good aim. For defensive purposes, a person wants to carry the heaviest gun with the highest caliber that they can. Heavier guns kick less because they absorb the momentum caused by the firing of the cartridge/bullet. So, I need to find the highest caliber gun that I can handle...and I don't want it to be too light so that it doesn't kick so hard. However, I do need it to be relatively small so that it can be easily concealed. 

This weekend, I might be going to a gun show. I'm hoping to get a better idea of the type of gun that I want to buy. I think that I would prefer a semi-automatic over a revolver, but my father thinks that a revolver would be better because they are less likely to miss-fire. My argument is that it would take a longer time to reload a revolver than it would take to have a semi-automatic and carry an extra magazine with me. We'll see what happens! 



By taking the CCW class, I not only overcame my nervousness, but I have also prepared myself to be able to protect myself better. I have also found a new hobby, I think--shooting guns at a target is really fun and it's a good way to relieve stress in a way that won't hurt anybody else. No one will have to listen to me yelling if I go to the range and take my anger out on a target! :-P Aiming at a target takes concentration and skill--so it can be very rewarding to hit the bulls-eye!

I do not own this image.

Image Source: http://www.mantecasportsmen.org/Safety/Manteca%20Sportsman%20Club%20Inc%20Course%20Safety_files/image004.jpg

 

Protecting Myself--Part I

Last week, my mother called me and told me that if I wanted to take a CCW (conceal and carry) class, I needed to let her know asap because my aunt was trying to set up a class for us for that weekend. 

I had been wanting to take the CCW class in order to apply for my permit but I hadn't really given it much serious thought. My aunt and mother bombarded me with the news about the class out of nowhere. Naturally, I was taken aback. Like I said, I had been wanting to take the class but I wasn't sure if I was even being serious about it. After all, I would have to pass a class about firearms to even apply for the permit--and I didn't know much about guns. 

I mean, I've been around guns my whole life. Many of the men in my family and around me are hunters...and I definitely love having my freezer full of venison. It is much more lean than hamburger meat and can become quite a delicious substitute for beef in many different recipes (chili is especially good with venison). I've gone with my Dad on hunting expeditions, though I've always assumed that I could never kill an animal. I would go with my Dad into the woods, help him set up his tree stand, and sit with him until it got dark, keeping a watchful eye out for any deer. Usually, after the first two hours or so, I indulged in a nice nap. It's pretty obvious that I'm not a born killer. I love nature, so being out in the woods is always calming...but I just can't see myself sending Bambi's Pap-Pap into the next world...and thus into my freezer. 

Anyway, back to the topic at hand...the CCW class. Why would a nice young lady like myself want to carry around a deadly weapon anyway, right? I know what you're thinking...it's dangerous...especially since I told you that I don't know much about guns. This is the reason: I am a nice young lady...and I'm also pretty small. I don't weigh a whole lot so if it came down to being attacked by some crazy person, I wouldn't be able to defend myself. I've already had a rather unpleasant (I'm not going to go into details) experience during my first semester of college. 

I'm serious about wanting to protect myself. I don't want to become a statistic, and I definitely don't want to be plastered all over televisions if some crazy person kidnaps me for who knows what reason (though we all know what they want, right?). I can take a more hands-on approach with my own safety. I want to be alert at all times...and I want to be able to defend myself if (God forbid) a situation arises. I've never wanted to just carry around a gun because I wanted to be "cool," or because I want men to think I'm a tough chick. Ideally, the point of carrying around a gun is NOT to use it at all...it is purely there for a worst case scenario. 

I'm not going to go around and advertise that "I'm packing heat". In fact, if I do get my permit, I don't want anyone to know about it. People that advertise that they have it are just asking for someone to break into their house to steal the gun that they're bragging about. Because my identity is pretty well protected in this blog, I don't really have to worry about sharing my experience.

In fact, I want to share it because I want to encourage other young women to think about how they would protect themselves if something bad were to happen. Applying for a CCW permit is definitely not the best option for everyone, but everyone should have a plan of action if something bad does happen to them. It is better to be prepared, always. Remember the fire/tornado drills we thought were so stupid and annoying when we were younger? Imagine if your school never held those drills and a tornado or a fire really happened. Would you have been prepared on your own for that? Would you know where to go or what to do? How would you deal with the panicky feelings you would be having? These are the questions that women of all ages need to ask themselves in relation to being attacked or robbed. As women, we tend to think that everyone is inherently good...and we want to make connections with other people and "fix" them if they are "broken". Unfortunately, the world is not like that. There are people out there that are just bad--if they want to hurt you, they will have no problem doing it. I know this from first hand experience. 

(continued in part II)...

Cleaning Days vs. Study Days vs. Play Days

I have the unfortunate problem of not being able to multitask very well. I'm sure I'm not the only person with this problem. I have entire days where I just focus on one thing/theme for the day. I'm sure this isn't the most healthy/well-rounded lifestyle, but sometimes these days just seem to happen.

I'll wake up and think, "Okay, today is going to be a cleaning day". I'll spend the entire day doing laundry, dishes, sweeping, and just working on making my house more presentable overall. There are probably people out there in the big, big world that may think that waking up and wanting to clean is something that they wish they could have. It's not so perfect though. The problem is, for at least 80% of my time, it ISN'T a "cleaning day". Thus, my messy lifestyle builds up day after day until finally, my brain switches into "clean mode" and I go cleaning crazy. Many of my friends have witnessed my messy lifestyle, and very few have witnessed my house when it is actually pretty clean. It's kind of like I let things go until I just can't take it anymore and all of the sudden the scary cleaning lady makes an appearance.

I don't know why this always seems to happen to me. Why can't I have a mix day? You know, do a load of laundry while studying or watching a movie or something. I just can't seem to get my mind to mix things up. I just get fixated on something and can't seem to look away from it, whether it involves doing tons of dishes, watching marathons of a tv show, or playing hours of "Just Dance" on my Kinect.

Sometimes, I will have study days--I'll go study crazy. I'll read all of my assignments, do all of my homework, and go highlighter crazy. I may even read ahead or research something that a professor only lightly mentioned in class. I will organize everything, and I may even type out or rewrite some of my notes, adding more information that I found while studying on my own.

Then there are the less frequent "play" days. This type of day is probably my favorite but also probably my least productive. I will sleep in until half the day is gone. Then I will get up and do a bunch of silly stuff, like playing video games for hours, playing music and dancing around with my dog, throwing Jaco his squeaky toy over and over again, and I may even just have a movie marathon. I like the play days because I'm extremely lazy but I actually spend some time just on myself.

I'm trying to get better at managing my time and mixing up my activities each day but it is really a challenge for me! I think I'm starting to get better though. Today, I slept in (play day), put in a load of laundry and folded one that I didn't finish folding last night (cleaning day), and I completed a couple homework assignments (study day). I guess things are looking up...I just hope that I can keep this up without my brain turning back to "auto" mode, and my fixation days will reappear. -_-

The Woes of Washing Machines

Okay. So I realize that this is my first EVER blog post and I should probably be writing something more related to me personally, but I decided to take the polar plunge and post something that has been plaguing my life for a few months now. 

Recently I moved into a house that my parents bought as a rental property. Other than being utterly broke and struggling to pay my bills, it's pretty awesome. I'm living independently with my dog Jaco, all the food in here is mine, and I can walk around in my underwear if I want.

However, I've been having issues since I moved in with various appliances. Besides having to replace a used refrigerator that matched my cream colored stove with a black used refrigerator that is now collecting water in the bottom of it, I've had no end to problems with my washer/dryer. 

This all started when my grandma, lovely and doting woman that she is, sent a washer and dryer to my house from one of her rental properties. I was excited to finally not have to go to my parent's house to wash my clothes (even though I HATE doing laundry almost as much as I HATE washing dishes). Life was going pretty well until I discovered that the dryer was burning my clothes and continually setting my smoke detector off. This is an annoying smoke detector and makes me want to cower in a corner. Anyway, so once again my grandma worked her magic and bought a used washer and dryer to switch out with the washer that was working okay and the dryer that was catching stuff on fire. 

Unfortunately, upon switching out the washer/dryer, I discovered that the new (used) washer was making a horrible noise and the agitator was not functioning. Greeeaaaattt. So, now I had a dryer that was working but not a washer. I'm sure you can begin to imagine the giant piles of laundry that have been taking up residence in my basement since all of this mess started. 

Equally frustrated was my grandmother, who went to Lowes yesterday and ordered me a new washer, exactly like the washer she had just purchased because HER washer had also quit working. This morning, Lowes was supposed to deliver my new washer. I was about as excited as I could be that I would be doing laundry tonight--finally! I had explicit instructions from my grandma to have the delivery guys move the old washer into the garage so that my cousin could scrap it for some cash later today. 

Woohoo! My new washer was installed!

...dun dun dunnnnnn!!!...

The delivery men had taken the old washer with them instead of putting it in the garage. I hadn't realized this until two seconds after the guys pulled out of my driveway and headed down the road. Shiiiiiiitt! I called my grandma, she called Lowes, and the guys came back to unload the old washer and put it in my garage. 

Cool right?
 Right.



But...



I was investigating my new washer when I noticed something strange. My grandmother had given me some new H.E. (high efficiency) detergent because the regular soap I had wouldn't work in the new washer. Oddly, when I inspected all the doodads/knobs on the front of the washer, I noticed that there was nothing indicating that the washer was an H.E. Likewise, my grandma had explained to me that her new washer didn't have an agitator. So mine shouldn't either, right? I mean, she bought me the EXACT SAME model. 

WHAT THE HELL?!?



Naturally, I called her again (adding to her own washer woes) and we determined that my washer probably wasn't the same one. My grandma came over to my house and determined that, yes indeed, my washer was totally different. Soooo...

Once more my grandmother called Lowes. It turns out that she accidentally bought the wrong one yesterday when she was in a hurry at the store. The washer I have was sitting in the exact same place as the one she had bought. 

Luckily, things are looking up (mostly). Lowes is going to come back out here and switch the washers. Hallelujah, right?!? The only downside is that I have to wait until Monday for the delivery. Another four days of using the same two towels to dry off with after I take a shower. Another four days of having to look at the mountain of dirty clothes that has accumulated in my basement. Fffffuuuuuuuuuu....