Quality control.

I would really like to express my gratitude to the quality control people in the diaper production plants. I am not quite sure how they do it, but I am sure happy that they produce such a reliable product. A couple of times that diaper was the only thing standing between me and me being scarred for the rest of my life. And it is not the content that haunts my dreams, it is the Force. I don’t think there are many female Jedi, but I am absolutely sure that my daughter has the Force. The Force so strong that the only thing that can actually stop it from destroying everything in its path is a well fitted diaper (newborn size, when it is nice and snug around her booty).

I only wish our washer and drier came with the same kind of quality control. Here is what happened: Yesterday I did a load of laundry – it is ok, I will wait to the roar of applause to subside. Then I had to ask my wife about the appropriate (according to her, and so according to our official family line) way to run the drier. After explaining to me that I had to turn the knob to the farthest mark away from its current position (those of you who think that I had to turn the knob 180 degrees would be equally wrong) she decided to do it herself. And this morning when she went to get the laundry out of the drier, well, it was not there. Now, I would address this problem scientifically and devise a plan of all the actions we should take to locate it, but her being a psychologist, she just looked in the washer and there it was. The explanation, of course, was that being forward looking, I asked her about how to set the dryer with accordance to our family line, before I moved the clothes, while she assumed that I actually moved them first, and than she started an empty drier. Now, this within itself could be the part where the story could have ended and I could have started talking about quality control, and so on. But wait, there is one more twist – the laundry in the washer was dry! Now you tell me if you ever thought about this type of a plot appearing anywhere other than the fictional books by Agatha Christie, or that tall English dude (something about a Canon and a Doily). So the question than, how did it get dry? First, I thought that since it is so called and the air is so dry it just dried on its own, even though the door of the washer was closed. That was clearly an absurd theory, similar to the possibility of my 19 day old daughter playing tricks on us during the night and moving the laundry around. The answer of course is … not only did I not move the laundry to the drier, I never started the washer. And now we are ready to go to that quality control issue. Would not it be nice if Frigidaire not only produced reliable appliances but also did our laundry?