She’s dead.  The poor lass didn’t survive the afternoon.  Officially, the time of death was approximately 2:40 pm CDT.  Despite my best attempts to get ‘er going again, she just didn’t have any life left in her.  I even tried a few kicks strategically placed about her body, not to mention a few some several an unending supply of harsh words and colorful metaphors that would strip the paint off walls.  But she was done for and wouldn’t even finish drying the load she had in ‘er.

Damn selfish of ‘er to up and die like that when I had stuff for her to do.  Damn selfish indeed.

So now it’s time to get a new dryer.  Ugh.  At this point, one might accurately ponder the turn of poor luck that has inundated me over the last few months.  It’s really inappropriate and I’m feeling a bit picked on, what with health problems with the cats, integration efforts with a new adult cat, my now second flat tire, the whole sewage debacle, and a litany of other incidents, each of them minor unto themselves yet amplified to catastrophic proportions when considered as a whole.  To be unnecessarily cliché, if it weren’t for bad luck, sometimes I’d have no luck at all.

I plan to go shopping for a new dryer early this week.  While I could go tomorrow, I don’t want to deal with the other white trash out doing their Labor Day shopping, so I’ll skip it and try for Tuesday or Wednesday.  They can deliver it and get it hooked up.  That means all I have to do is find one, pay for it, and then wait for it to arrive.

In the meantime, I may kick the cadaver a few more times just to see if it helps me feel better.  It never hurts to try, and that old lady won’t feel a thing.  Hell, she’s already stiff as a board.