I'll Be Around If You Think You Might Love Me

My apartment recently flooded again. This time, though, was my own fault. My washing machine had a major meltdown and I was in Andrea La La Land not paying attention to things like the water filling the machine for hours. Hey, don't you judge me...Andrea La La Land is magical. And there's cotton candy.

The maintenance people were really very nice and did some testing on the machine to verify that it was, in fact, my machine and not a water line somewhere. Which, they only did that to cover their own asses, but it helped me see what the issue may have been. And, more lucky for me, was that my Dad was coming to see me that weekend.

So, I discussed with my Dad what happened and he and Google agreed that I needed a new timer assembly.

I ordered. I waited. It arrived. I put it on.

Now, during the putting it on process I ran into a snag and by the power of Greyskull, erm, I mean thanks to Google, I found the answer to the snag and fixed it. I fixed my washing machine.

At the time, yes, I was way proud and impressed and strutted around with my chest poked out and boasted to the dogs and maybe even sent a smug email or two. But then I found out my Dad was doing the same thing back home.

Now, the fact that my Dad is running around telling everyone he runs into that his 36 3/4 years old daughter fixed her own washing machine in the same manner he'd run around and tell them that I just learned to tie my own shoes or ride a bike or some shit like that made me really sit and ponder life and the nature of Dads.

What I've realized is that my Dad isn't really so much proud that I fixed the washing machine on my own as he is excited and pleased that I won't have to have sex with a man anymore. I suspect that in his mind the more things I do like this on my own, the more I'll realize I don't need one of those bad boys around that just want to sex me up and I'll stay single and his little girl forever. He can forget that whole me being married thing ever happened because I can fix my washing machine on my own. And? I can pick out a good damned tire, too.

Yeah, the tire thing. It makes way more sense to me now how much he admires the tires I bought for my Blazer. "They're how old? They show no wear! You really know how to pick out a tire. I'm impressed!"

"You got your oil changed on your own? Without being reminded? Excelleeeent."

"You hung up all of this stuff on the walls? Yourself? With a level? Here, let me buy you a saw."

"You found the main water valve to your apartment? Sweet...."

He's making me self sufficient not to make sure I save money or anything like that. He's turning me back into a virgin in his brain. I'm convinced of it.