Steven Harper's Blog, page 58
March 10, 2019
Little Servants
The Crock Pot is making ratatouille. The Instant Pot is making yogurt. The dishwasher is cleaning the dishes. The washing machine is cleaning the clothes. The dryer is drying them.
It's like having a platoon of servants!
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It's like having a platoon of servants!
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March 9, 2019
Starting Over
I'm writing a new book based on a short story I recently sold. (More details on -that- later.) Ye Agente read the story along with my short treatment for a novel and was enthusiastic about it.
Now I have to actually write it.
The working title is PARADIGM SHIFT. A guy who dropped out of law school to become a bricklayer is coerced into swapping places with his double from a parallel universe in order to save the world. Or maybe he'll destroy it.
I'm loving this so far. It's a first-person narrative, which I find myself doing more and more lately, and Sikander's voice is fun to write. I've written a handful of chapters and went back to do some rewriting for Ye Agente, and realized I had the opening all wrong. It was awful.
So now I'm tearing the first chapter apart and starting over. The writing life...
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Now I have to actually write it.
The working title is PARADIGM SHIFT. A guy who dropped out of law school to become a bricklayer is coerced into swapping places with his double from a parallel universe in order to save the world. Or maybe he'll destroy it.
I'm loving this so far. It's a first-person narrative, which I find myself doing more and more lately, and Sikander's voice is fun to write. I've written a handful of chapters and went back to do some rewriting for Ye Agente, and realized I had the opening all wrong. It was awful.
So now I'm tearing the first chapter apart and starting over. The writing life...
comments
February 20, 2019
Insurance Whoa
So yesterday I got a $200 bill from the doctor's office for a routine procedure. I logged on to my insurance company's web site and found the claim. It was coded "Maximum charge for procedure reached." As far as I knew, there's no "maximum charge" for anything through this policy. A little apprehensive, I called the insurance company. After some clicking around on her computer, the rep said, "This was improperly processed. I'm very sorry. We'll correct the error and send them the payment."
!!!
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February 19, 2019
An Electric Time
Our house needed extensive electrical work. This involved a duo of electricians showing up at our house at 9:00 AM and shutting off the power for nearly five hours on a day when the temperature peaked at 20 degrees. I turned the heat way, way up to mitigate the problem, but wasn't looking forward to the prospect of losing power most of the day.
Additionally, Darwin was staying home so he could hit a couple doctor's appointments. And Max had the day off from work. So there were =three= people moping around the house.
The electricians arrived and dutifully warned us that the power was going off in five minutes and would be off for several hours. We shut down all the electronics in anticipation, and FOOP! The power went off. Max almost immediately fled to a friend's house. I curled up on the couch with my pad to read, but knew the battery wouldn't last five hours. Darwin sat on the couch and stared into space.
"You could read something," I said. "Lots of books on the coffee table. I bought you couple for Christmas."
"Nah."
More time passed. I shifted from my pad to my laptop. I didn't have wifi, but I could still write. Darwin paced restlessly around the house. Meanwhile, my laptop battery is old, and it drained fairly quickly. The house was also getting noticeably chilly. At last, I said, "Let's go to my classroom. It has heat and power and wifi. You can bring your laptop."
He hemmed and hawed, not wanting to leave the electricians alone. "We can't do anything to help them," I pointed out. "They don't need us."
Finally, he agreed, and we decamped to Nameless High School. There, I graded a stack of papers while Darwin worked on his computer. My classroom is always freezing cold--the heating system hasn't been checked or upgraded in over 20 years--but I have space heaters to make up the difference. The district doesn't like this, but when the temperature gets down to 63 degrees and the chairs are painfully cold to the touch, I'm going to run space heaters. I've complained and complained and written up work orders and complained some more, but nothing happens. There's no money to fix things. You can bet the GOP legislators have nice, toasty offices in winter and gently cool ones in summer, while the teachers and the kids freeze and fry. But why should they care?
Anyway.
We worked, but got more and more restless. You can only stare at a screen or sit at a desk for so long. Finally I texted the electricians to ask for an update. "Power should be coming on in 15 minutes," one of them wrote back.
Nameless is 10 minutes away, so we packed up and headed home just in time for power to be restored. Yay!
We dealt with re-initializing cable boxes and resetting the wifi and all the other sundry tasks required after a power outage while the electricians finished the other work.
At last they were done. They left, and I was able to get supper going--Korean beef and stir-fried vegetables for Darwin's new super low-carb diet.
And we have power!
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Additionally, Darwin was staying home so he could hit a couple doctor's appointments. And Max had the day off from work. So there were =three= people moping around the house.
The electricians arrived and dutifully warned us that the power was going off in five minutes and would be off for several hours. We shut down all the electronics in anticipation, and FOOP! The power went off. Max almost immediately fled to a friend's house. I curled up on the couch with my pad to read, but knew the battery wouldn't last five hours. Darwin sat on the couch and stared into space.
"You could read something," I said. "Lots of books on the coffee table. I bought you couple for Christmas."
"Nah."
More time passed. I shifted from my pad to my laptop. I didn't have wifi, but I could still write. Darwin paced restlessly around the house. Meanwhile, my laptop battery is old, and it drained fairly quickly. The house was also getting noticeably chilly. At last, I said, "Let's go to my classroom. It has heat and power and wifi. You can bring your laptop."
He hemmed and hawed, not wanting to leave the electricians alone. "We can't do anything to help them," I pointed out. "They don't need us."
Finally, he agreed, and we decamped to Nameless High School. There, I graded a stack of papers while Darwin worked on his computer. My classroom is always freezing cold--the heating system hasn't been checked or upgraded in over 20 years--but I have space heaters to make up the difference. The district doesn't like this, but when the temperature gets down to 63 degrees and the chairs are painfully cold to the touch, I'm going to run space heaters. I've complained and complained and written up work orders and complained some more, but nothing happens. There's no money to fix things. You can bet the GOP legislators have nice, toasty offices in winter and gently cool ones in summer, while the teachers and the kids freeze and fry. But why should they care?
Anyway.
We worked, but got more and more restless. You can only stare at a screen or sit at a desk for so long. Finally I texted the electricians to ask for an update. "Power should be coming on in 15 minutes," one of them wrote back.
Nameless is 10 minutes away, so we packed up and headed home just in time for power to be restored. Yay!
We dealt with re-initializing cable boxes and resetting the wifi and all the other sundry tasks required after a power outage while the electricians finished the other work.
At last they were done. They left, and I was able to get supper going--Korean beef and stir-fried vegetables for Darwin's new super low-carb diet.
And we have power!
comments
February 17, 2019
Darwin Update
Darwin is very much his old self, but is now hyper-conscious of his eating and his blood sugar and his meds. This is net gain, really. The whole acidosis incident has pushed him past his avoidance relationship with needles, and now he checks his sugar voluntarily! (Me: Who are you and what have you done with my husband?) Now the household is more devoted to lowering carb consumption. I've embarked on a campaign to substitute carb-heavy side dishes such as potatoes or pasta with roasted or stir-fried vegetables. Tonight's menu, for example: baby back ribs, roasted carrots/parsnips/yams, sauteed mushrooms, cheese and pickle plate.
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February 12, 2019
Exploding the Paczki Population
I'd been planning to make paczki this past weekend. I'd already made custard filling and strawberry filling. But then life happened, and I wasn't able to.
Tuesday, however, we had an ice storm and school was canceled--the perfect chance for paczki!
If you've never heard of them, paczki are filled doughnuts popularized in Poland and among Michigan's Polish population. They're designed to clear the kitchen of eggs and sugar and other goodies just before Lent. You don't find them anywhere, not in bakeries or in homes, until we get close to Fat Tuesday, and in Michigan they're a Big Thing. I've eaten lots of them over the years, but never made them. This year, I wanted to try it.
Recipes for paczki abound on the Internet, but they're all much the same--an egg-heavy, very soft bread dough with a little extra sugar. I chose a version that looked good to me and set about making the dough. I used my dough hook instead of my bread maker.
The dough seemed right after I let it rise. Yay! It rolled out well, and I cut it into rounds. While they were rising again, I filled my deep fryer. Most recipes assume you'll fry paczki on the stove, but I can never keep the oil at the right temperature for stove top deep frying, and what do I have a fryer for anyway?
When everything was ready, I slid a set of rounds into the oil. They browned and puffed, and I fished them out for the next batch. I had a great pile of them when they were done. They cooled, and I set to filling them with a pastry bag. The recipe said to just jam the tip into the doughnut and fill it, but I quickly discovered this didn't work--the filling didn't go anywhere. So I inserted a chopstick and made a hollow for the filling. This worked out much better.
They're delicious! Now we just have to figure out who's going to eat them all!
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Tuesday, however, we had an ice storm and school was canceled--the perfect chance for paczki!
If you've never heard of them, paczki are filled doughnuts popularized in Poland and among Michigan's Polish population. They're designed to clear the kitchen of eggs and sugar and other goodies just before Lent. You don't find them anywhere, not in bakeries or in homes, until we get close to Fat Tuesday, and in Michigan they're a Big Thing. I've eaten lots of them over the years, but never made them. This year, I wanted to try it.
Recipes for paczki abound on the Internet, but they're all much the same--an egg-heavy, very soft bread dough with a little extra sugar. I chose a version that looked good to me and set about making the dough. I used my dough hook instead of my bread maker.
The dough seemed right after I let it rise. Yay! It rolled out well, and I cut it into rounds. While they were rising again, I filled my deep fryer. Most recipes assume you'll fry paczki on the stove, but I can never keep the oil at the right temperature for stove top deep frying, and what do I have a fryer for anyway?
When everything was ready, I slid a set of rounds into the oil. They browned and puffed, and I fished them out for the next batch. I had a great pile of them when they were done. They cooled, and I set to filling them with a pastry bag. The recipe said to just jam the tip into the doughnut and fill it, but I quickly discovered this didn't work--the filling didn't go anywhere. So I inserted a chopstick and made a hollow for the filling. This worked out much better.
They're delicious! Now we just have to figure out who's going to eat them all!
comments
The Great Acidosis Adventure
We have a hell of a weekend...
Darwin got violently ill on his way home from a week-long conference. When i arrived home from work, I found him curled up in bed. We dealt with a whole lot of nausea. He hadn't eaten in a long time. When he threw up for the dozenth time at 1 AM, I finally checked his blood sugar. It was in the stratosphere. I had thought it was flu, a con crud picked up in Battle Creek, but clearly it was something worse.
I tried to get Darwin to the car, but by now he was drifting in and out of consciousness and he said he couldn't walk. I called an ambulance. When it arrived, the paramedics bundled him away. I followed in the car.
The ER staff got him IV'ed and medicated, but they wouldn't let him have anything to drink, for fear that he might pass out and then throw up while unconscious, which would cause a world of awful. They worked on controlling the nausea and bringing his blood sugar down. By now, it was three in the morning. I sat by his bed, alternatively chewing my nails and making myself ignore Darwin's demands, pleas, snarls, and begging for water.
He was diagnosed with keto acidosis (when the body breaks down fat cells faster than it can process them, leaving proteins in the blood that make it acidic) and renal failure (kidneys stop working), which meant he had to go into ICU. At about six o'clock, they moved him up there. He stayed in ICU for the next 24 hours while the staff worked to stabilize his blood sugar. It turns out that the hospital has a set of nurses who specialize in keto acidosis patients in ICU. Who knew?
The ICU room was clearly meant for a patient in a coma--lots of floor space for equipment carts and floor-to-ceiling window where the corridor wall would be so the nurses could watch the patient at all times. The nurse said many of their keto acidosis patients slid into comas. Uh, yay?
Darwin's demands for water increased, and after several hours went by without nausea, they finally allowed him ice chips. He spent most of his time sleeping, which made me nervous--I couldn't tell if he was just asleep or actually unconscious. But they had him on a heart monitor, and the staff checked him with rigorous regularity, so I didn't interfere.
Late Saturday morning, I went home for a few hours. I'd only gotten a couple hours of sleep and had been up since one, and I was falling asleep on my feet. I also hadn't eaten. Darwin asked me not to go at first, and I didn't want to, but my body was crapping out on me, so I finally headed off. At home, I ate, then slept, then texted a bunch of people to let them know what was going on.
The replies poured in. What I found funny was that Darwin's side of the family said things like, "I hope he gets better soon!" and "Our thoughts are with him," while my family (who work in various fields of medicine) said things like, "Oh, that's a good hospital" and "He'll get excellent care there." What different people find comforting. :)
Several times at the hospital, various staff members asked who I was to the patient. I always responded, "He's my husband," which after a while annoyed me. When I was married to a woman and sat at her bedside at hospital trips, I almost never got that question. Certainly not more than once. This is one more example of how coming out happens over and over and over again. It gets draining sometimes, especially when you're already in crisis mode.
Darwin stayed in ICU all night. I stayed with him as much as I could, sitting by his bed playing endless games of Talisman on my iPad while he slept. He was forbidden from getting out of bed, though he was too weak to think about doing so anyway. At home, I slept restlessly, both worried and unhappy.
In the morning, I called Darwin at the hospital and learned they had moved him to NICU, or "near intensive care unit." Turned out it was the room next door and was so called because he'd recovered enough that he didn't need intense monitoring (though he was still connected to the heart monitor, oxygen monitor, and three IV lines). The beds in ICU and NICU are high-tech stuff. In addition to motorized raising and lowering and wifi-capable alarms and call buttons, it also has massage units (to prevent blood clots and bedsores) and sensory equipment that included an electronic scale that reports the patient's weight at all times.
Initially, the doctors said Darwin could probably go home Sunday evening, and due to his improved condition, they moved him again, to a regular room. "You'll only be there a couple hours," the doctor said, "and then you can go home."
But late Sunday morning it was clear Darwin wasn't going anywhere. He was still weak and unable to stand reliably, and at shift change, the new nurse said she had nothing in her orders about him going home. He might go home Monday. I called in at work--I couldn't afford to be teaching when the hospital announced he was able to go home. This involved dashing home to make sub plans and do other household tasks. Max was coming home from a weekend trip to his mother's, so I had to be there for him, too, for at least a little while.
Monday morning I was back at the hospital. Darwin had improved a great deal overnight and could stand reasonably well. I announced he needed a shower, which the nursing staff approved. I got him all scrubbed down, into a clean gown, and back into bed. They let him eat, though he could only manage a small meal.
Darwin's son Shane drove up to see him as well, which was reassuring for everyone concerned.
By Monday afternoon, Darwin told me to get him out of there. He wanted to go home! I didn't blame him. Between the conference and the hospital, he'd been away for more than a week now.
At one point, a team of six doctors, interns, and medical students crammed themselves into the room to talk about his care. We made appointments with Darwin's regular doctor and his endocrinologist and went over what to do with him at home. We signed papers and read orders. At least, they brought wheelchair while I ran down to bring the car around.
And now he's home. We're keeping a close eye on his blood sugar and other issues.
Sunday evening, the district announced that school was closed on Tuesday. I was relieved--it had been a difficult three days, and a day to rest at home was exactly what I needed.
Crisis averted.
comments
Darwin got violently ill on his way home from a week-long conference. When i arrived home from work, I found him curled up in bed. We dealt with a whole lot of nausea. He hadn't eaten in a long time. When he threw up for the dozenth time at 1 AM, I finally checked his blood sugar. It was in the stratosphere. I had thought it was flu, a con crud picked up in Battle Creek, but clearly it was something worse.
I tried to get Darwin to the car, but by now he was drifting in and out of consciousness and he said he couldn't walk. I called an ambulance. When it arrived, the paramedics bundled him away. I followed in the car.
The ER staff got him IV'ed and medicated, but they wouldn't let him have anything to drink, for fear that he might pass out and then throw up while unconscious, which would cause a world of awful. They worked on controlling the nausea and bringing his blood sugar down. By now, it was three in the morning. I sat by his bed, alternatively chewing my nails and making myself ignore Darwin's demands, pleas, snarls, and begging for water.
He was diagnosed with keto acidosis (when the body breaks down fat cells faster than it can process them, leaving proteins in the blood that make it acidic) and renal failure (kidneys stop working), which meant he had to go into ICU. At about six o'clock, they moved him up there. He stayed in ICU for the next 24 hours while the staff worked to stabilize his blood sugar. It turns out that the hospital has a set of nurses who specialize in keto acidosis patients in ICU. Who knew?
The ICU room was clearly meant for a patient in a coma--lots of floor space for equipment carts and floor-to-ceiling window where the corridor wall would be so the nurses could watch the patient at all times. The nurse said many of their keto acidosis patients slid into comas. Uh, yay?
Darwin's demands for water increased, and after several hours went by without nausea, they finally allowed him ice chips. He spent most of his time sleeping, which made me nervous--I couldn't tell if he was just asleep or actually unconscious. But they had him on a heart monitor, and the staff checked him with rigorous regularity, so I didn't interfere.
Late Saturday morning, I went home for a few hours. I'd only gotten a couple hours of sleep and had been up since one, and I was falling asleep on my feet. I also hadn't eaten. Darwin asked me not to go at first, and I didn't want to, but my body was crapping out on me, so I finally headed off. At home, I ate, then slept, then texted a bunch of people to let them know what was going on.
The replies poured in. What I found funny was that Darwin's side of the family said things like, "I hope he gets better soon!" and "Our thoughts are with him," while my family (who work in various fields of medicine) said things like, "Oh, that's a good hospital" and "He'll get excellent care there." What different people find comforting. :)
Several times at the hospital, various staff members asked who I was to the patient. I always responded, "He's my husband," which after a while annoyed me. When I was married to a woman and sat at her bedside at hospital trips, I almost never got that question. Certainly not more than once. This is one more example of how coming out happens over and over and over again. It gets draining sometimes, especially when you're already in crisis mode.
Darwin stayed in ICU all night. I stayed with him as much as I could, sitting by his bed playing endless games of Talisman on my iPad while he slept. He was forbidden from getting out of bed, though he was too weak to think about doing so anyway. At home, I slept restlessly, both worried and unhappy.
In the morning, I called Darwin at the hospital and learned they had moved him to NICU, or "near intensive care unit." Turned out it was the room next door and was so called because he'd recovered enough that he didn't need intense monitoring (though he was still connected to the heart monitor, oxygen monitor, and three IV lines). The beds in ICU and NICU are high-tech stuff. In addition to motorized raising and lowering and wifi-capable alarms and call buttons, it also has massage units (to prevent blood clots and bedsores) and sensory equipment that included an electronic scale that reports the patient's weight at all times.
Initially, the doctors said Darwin could probably go home Sunday evening, and due to his improved condition, they moved him again, to a regular room. "You'll only be there a couple hours," the doctor said, "and then you can go home."
But late Sunday morning it was clear Darwin wasn't going anywhere. He was still weak and unable to stand reliably, and at shift change, the new nurse said she had nothing in her orders about him going home. He might go home Monday. I called in at work--I couldn't afford to be teaching when the hospital announced he was able to go home. This involved dashing home to make sub plans and do other household tasks. Max was coming home from a weekend trip to his mother's, so I had to be there for him, too, for at least a little while.
Monday morning I was back at the hospital. Darwin had improved a great deal overnight and could stand reasonably well. I announced he needed a shower, which the nursing staff approved. I got him all scrubbed down, into a clean gown, and back into bed. They let him eat, though he could only manage a small meal.
Darwin's son Shane drove up to see him as well, which was reassuring for everyone concerned.
By Monday afternoon, Darwin told me to get him out of there. He wanted to go home! I didn't blame him. Between the conference and the hospital, he'd been away for more than a week now.
At one point, a team of six doctors, interns, and medical students crammed themselves into the room to talk about his care. We made appointments with Darwin's regular doctor and his endocrinologist and went over what to do with him at home. We signed papers and read orders. At least, they brought wheelchair while I ran down to bring the car around.
And now he's home. We're keeping a close eye on his blood sugar and other issues.
Sunday evening, the district announced that school was closed on Tuesday. I was relieved--it had been a difficult three days, and a day to rest at home was exactly what I needed.
Crisis averted.
comments
February 5, 2019
STAGES OF CASTING A SUPER-HERO IN A MOVIE
1. The studio announces the actor's name.
2. The Internet fanboys howl. "He can't play that role!" "He's a crappy actor." "He's the wrong color!" "He can't act!" "How dare they not cast my favorite actor instead?" "No one's heard of him!" "He's stupid!" "He's too short!"
3. The actor shuts down Facebook and Twitter accounts and goes into hiding due to all the trolls and hate speech.
4. The studio leaks some early shots from the filming of the movie.
5. Internet Fanboys scream. "The costume is all wrong!" "He looks nothing like the character!" "He's still the wrong color!"
6. The studio releases the first trailer.
7. Internet Fanboys screech. "This looks totally stupid." "They wrecked my favorite comic book!" "Why are they making a movie that no one's going to see?" "He's still the wrong color!"
8. The movie hits theaters.
9. Internet Fanboys stampede to the theater and emerge three hours later. "It was pretty cool." "He was amazing in that role!" "The show blew me away!" "Give it an Oscar!" "I saw it four times already!"
10. Internet Fanboys disavow all knowledge of disliking it in the first place and savage reviewers. "How dare you say bad things about my favorite movie?" "I loved this from the start!" "He's my favorite actor of all time!"
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2. The Internet fanboys howl. "He can't play that role!" "He's a crappy actor." "He's the wrong color!" "He can't act!" "How dare they not cast my favorite actor instead?" "No one's heard of him!" "He's stupid!" "He's too short!"
3. The actor shuts down Facebook and Twitter accounts and goes into hiding due to all the trolls and hate speech.
4. The studio leaks some early shots from the filming of the movie.
5. Internet Fanboys scream. "The costume is all wrong!" "He looks nothing like the character!" "He's still the wrong color!"
6. The studio releases the first trailer.
7. Internet Fanboys screech. "This looks totally stupid." "They wrecked my favorite comic book!" "Why are they making a movie that no one's going to see?" "He's still the wrong color!"
8. The movie hits theaters.
9. Internet Fanboys stampede to the theater and emerge three hours later. "It was pretty cool." "He was amazing in that role!" "The show blew me away!" "Give it an Oscar!" "I saw it four times already!"
10. Internet Fanboys disavow all knowledge of disliking it in the first place and savage reviewers. "How dare you say bad things about my favorite movie?" "I loved this from the start!" "He's my favorite actor of all time!"
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January 28, 2019
Snow, Slightly Postponed
We've been watching a giant snowstorm that's been bearing down on our state for a couple days. The forecasts got increasingly worse. Two to four inches. No, three to five. No, six to eight. With bone-cracking cold to follow.
Sunday night, the dominoes started falling. Ann Arbor closed. Ypsilanti closed. Detroit closed. And then we got the call--Wherever Schools was closed.
In the morning, I woke up at 7:00 and checked outside. No snow, just clouds. The forecast said sow would arrive this afternoon. On-line, the bitching began. Why had they closed school when there's no actual snow? Why had--
Then--WHAM! The snow began. It's burying us.
Uh huh. If the school hadn't canceled, the bitchers would be bitching about the dangerous drive at the end of the school day.
Speaking as someone who has to thread a dangerous drive through a herd of inexperienced teenaged drivers every morning, I'm glad we have a "when in doubt, close" policy, thanks. Rather an unneeded day off than an unexpected death.
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Sunday night, the dominoes started falling. Ann Arbor closed. Ypsilanti closed. Detroit closed. And then we got the call--Wherever Schools was closed.
In the morning, I woke up at 7:00 and checked outside. No snow, just clouds. The forecast said sow would arrive this afternoon. On-line, the bitching began. Why had they closed school when there's no actual snow? Why had--
Then--WHAM! The snow began. It's burying us.
Uh huh. If the school hadn't canceled, the bitchers would be bitching about the dangerous drive at the end of the school day.
Speaking as someone who has to thread a dangerous drive through a herd of inexperienced teenaged drivers every morning, I'm glad we have a "when in doubt, close" policy, thanks. Rather an unneeded day off than an unexpected death.
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Death and the Dishwasher
Our dishwasher hasn't worked well for quite a while. It tends to leave grit on the dishes no matter what setting we use or what kind of dishwasher soap. If it has a trap to clean out, it's so well hidden as to be invisible. I've tried cleaning it, and it only helps a little. This morning when I opened it, everything was covered in a thin film of food residue. Everything had to be rewashed by hand.
So it was time to get a new dishwasher. The thing is well over 30 years old anyway. The big snowstorm was holding off for the morning, so Darwin and I decided to dash out to find one.
After some shopping, we found one we liked at the local big box hardware store. A strangely indifferent clerk took down the information for delivery and installation, and we emerged from the store just as the snow started for real. We got home safely, and the new dishwasher should arrive Thursday.
Clean dishes!
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So it was time to get a new dishwasher. The thing is well over 30 years old anyway. The big snowstorm was holding off for the morning, so Darwin and I decided to dash out to find one.
After some shopping, we found one we liked at the local big box hardware store. A strangely indifferent clerk took down the information for delivery and installation, and we emerged from the store just as the snow started for real. We got home safely, and the new dishwasher should arrive Thursday.
Clean dishes!
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