The perfidy of major appliances

It’s becoming increasingly obvious, dear readers, that this is a farce as well as a tragedy that we’re living through. A farce probably written and orchestrated by The Horrible Goose, who is, I think, the hero that 2020 deserves.

I’ve been horrified and saddened by the western wildfires, and as I write this another hurricane is drawing a bead on the Guld Coast, and that’s just the continental US. All over the world, it’s becoming more and more apparent that climate change is real and deadly, and that human expansion into new spaces has real and epic and saddening conseqeunces.

But it’s not all grand guignol and a million or so dead in a global pandemic that’s just getting rolling.

Around here, we're becoming suspicious that the innate perfidy of major appliances is being enabled by the pandemic making buying and installing anything just a teeny bit more challenging, as we're about to lose our second one since January. And it seems like an epidemic among our friends as well—two stoves, two refrigerators, assorted other large powered objects.

Well, we had to buy a dryer in May… and now the horrible old stove that came with the house and that neither of us like is on the way out for reals, instead of just threatening to do so. It’s actually kind of a matter for rejoicing, though getting a new one in there may mean hiring somebody to run a gas line… and may also mean recutting the &*^%*^&% ohhh sooo 90s pink granite countertops. that are contoured around the edge of the current stove. Which is definitely a job for a professional.

But maybe we’ll get lucky! YOU NEVER KNOW. There might be a capped gas line back there (the house has been on gas heat since the 50s, and there has probably been a gas stove in here at some point… ah, old houses, so full of mysteries…) Maybe the new stove will just fit!

Maybe that goose will go and take a nap in a volcano.

And at least it’s royalty season. When you get paid twice a year, timing matters.

Ahem.

Anyway, I’m hard at work on The Origin of Storms (not right this second, obviously, because I am writing you a newsletter!) and I just had a marvellous idea for the next White Space book this morning.

Not just space cats, dear readers… but weird space aunties.

Hang in there, folks. The only way out is through.

I hope you only lose major appliances you hate this autumn.

Best,

Bear