If it weren't for bad luck, I sometimes feel that my wife and I would have none at all. Especially, if it comes in December. Let me explain.
For my wife, December is cursed. Here are a few things that have happened to her in month of December since we have known each other. Pulled wisdom teeth that turned into dry sockets, a knee surgery, two car accidents and I could go on. Basically, my wife and I hold our breath until Jan. 1 and hope for the best. This year we got close, but didn't quite make it.
It began the Sunday before Christmas. I came home from work early that night and my butt had no more touched my chair when I heard a noise and then the dogs going crazy. I went up to the kitchen to investigate and saw a cloud of smoke. Fantastic.
Upon further investigation, I found that my refrigerator was the source of the smoke. When I looked behind the refrigerator and pulled back the cardboard that covered the parts I saw a bright orange flame shoot out at me and everything that occupied our house. I quickly unplugged the flamethrower and my wife and I realized we might be without a refrigerator for a day or two.
Fortunately for us the flamethrower was still under warranty. Of course, there are apparently only a couple repairman in the Midwest that are qualified to work on the piece of crap flamethrower, but after some fancy talking by wife, a repairman showed up on Monday. But, he couldn't fix it until Thursday because he had to order a $500 part.
So we were out a refrigerator until Thursday, which doesn't seem like a big deal until you are without one. Especially, when you have family coming over for Christmas dinner in a few days. But my wife and I patiently waited to get the flamethrower fixed.
Finally, Thursday came and the repairman, if you can really call him that, went to work. Complete with blow torch and every kind of tool imaginable, he commenced "fixing" it, then went on his way. All is right with the world, right? Wrong.
Later that night I come home and the refrigerator isn't working, unless you consider keeping things warm working. Apparently, at a certain appliance company to the north, they don't teach their repairmen that refrigerators are supposed to cool.
By now my wife is in tears while on the phone to the worthless company we bought our flamethrower from. About now you're wondering what company that might be. Well, I'll put your mind at ease: Whirlpool. Of course, they tell us that they don't replace refrigerators, even though the part is worth more than the stupid flamethrower.
Very unhappy, on Friday morning my wife calls the "repairman" and talks them into returning to our house that morning. Unfortunately, they tell time as well as they repair refrigerators. An hour-and-a-half after they are supposed to arrive they get another phone call from my wife, and this one isn't very pleasant. Apparently, they changed their mind and won't come until late afternoon and neither my wife nor I could be home. Not that they could have fixed the stupid flamethrower anyway.
At this point, my wife left and made a trip to Lowe's where she found a friendly woman who sold my wife a new refrigerator, so we wouldn't have to go months drinking fountain sodas while being unable to keep anything cooler than room temperature. Would you like to take a guess if it was a Whirlpool?
Of course, while she was there she picked up a new mailbox as well. You see, I came home from work at 2 a.m. Friday to find our mailbox and its post had been flattened by who I can only assume were some fine youth on their way to a Bible-study group. My wife's first thought was: "Who did you tick off in you column this time?" Somehow I don't think Santa flew down and smashed it.
I, however, do think it is bad kharma since one of her old boyfriends was known for smashing mailboxes when he was growing up. Once again, her December curse is catching up to me.
So now there is a new mailbox and a new refrigerator, leaving us a lot poorer but happier. We still have the flamethrower, too. Maybe one day somebody will actually show up to fix it