WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS (part deux)

Sheesh, when it rains, it pours. Part deux, that is. Literally and figuratively. First, the literal. It's been in the upper 50's and lower 60's here for several days. Now, sure. You may be thinking, "Big whoop," but for those of us whom the extreme south brands as "snowbirds", who think white is a seasonal lawn shade? Trust me, we're smokin' hot in the Midwest at the moment.

But sadly for us, there are no glorious trips to the local parks.

No biking, hiking or "break in the weather" barbeques.

Those things would have been great to experience in early January, but it wasn't meant to be.

Rain. Rain. Rain.

Currently, it's in the mid 50's (and raining and THUNDERING, of course). Tomorrow morning? 30 friggin' cold degrees. That's Fahrenheit, folks (which I believe is German for, "Hypothermia sets in snappy fast.") I haven't caught spring fever yet, but when I do, you'll know.
Spring fever cannot be contained. It. Must. Be. Expressed.

As for the figurative rain, it's a torrential downpour there as well. Y'all know we had to replace our heat pump right before Christmas. Stinkin' hunk of Gouda. It was only 5 years old and should NOT have been referred to by the wee hours tech as, "a hefty expense to fix." He began at $900, and it only went up from there. Our final damages were over $4,000 (and that was with a company who was willing to replace our furnace coils as opposed to trying to sell us a new furnace too, which was quoted at over $7,000.)

Well now, the fun has just begun so why stop there, right?

Riiiiiight? (inhale, exhale, inhale,...)

The washer? Well, who needs an agitator anyway. The clothes can just soak in hot water. They don't need to actually move in it, do they? So, no agitator but plenty of agitation. I'm agitated because the agitator, she ain't agitatin'. You follow?

So, I call Bubba over at the repair shop today. I speak fluent English, but apparently with the wrong dialect because the conversation went like this.
"Yes, we have an old model Whirlpool washer and need to replace the agitator. Do you carry such parts?"
"Yis." (and for the record, he actually said, "Yis.")
"Yis? Okay, then. And is an agitator a universal part, or would you need our model number to see if you have one that fits our washer?"
(think Southern drawl) "Say whaaat?"
I repeat myself in English, but with a fake dialect, hoping to assist with comprehension. He continued.
"You don't need to replace the whole agitator. Unless, of course, it's SHOT!"
(Me on the other end.....Huh?????)
"You jis' need agitator dawgs. That's usually all's wrong with the agitator. Replace 'em dawgs and you might be good to go."
"Dawgs. Jis' replace my dawgs. K! And do you have, uh hem, 'dawgs' in stock?"
"Mmm-hmm."
(it's reaally hard to decipher "mmm-hmm" over the phone, especially when the voice on the other end of the line mumbles randomly.)
"And these, uh, dawgs. If they don't work, then you say she's SHOT?"
"Mmm-hmmm. Yes well, you might coulda used the whole agitator in that case."

Okay, so it seems we've gone full circle back to my original inquiry, which was about the whole agitator to begin with, but I guess we'll start with 'em dawgs and see what happens.

And there's PLENTY of agitating going on, I assure you.

It's just not in my machine.

Because what would a good rain be without another pour?

Enter,.....the "check engine light."

I kid you not.

Don't EVEN get me started on that one. Unless I'm stalled by the side of the road, that is. Then by all means, give me a cable jump.
And a ride to pick up mah dawgs, if need be.

Toni