Ever since I bought my dishwasher many years ago, it has made a thunking noise and required an extra push to get the door to seal. Assuming it was made that way, I pushed and listened to the thunk. Events conspired to get it fixed last week, and I only had to make a turducken of myself.
My writing group was scheduled to meet at my house the next day and I needed to do a little bit of touch up cleaning. I pulled out my handy-dandy Swiffer© duster and began to dust. I poked that long handled gift from the cleaning fairies under, between and over dusty surfaces. I was so inspired that I even dusted things that had not been touched since the first Bush administration. The remaining dust appears to be from before the Stone Age, so I decided it should continue its progress toward making a new planet.
I had worked my way through the whole house and was finishing with the refrigerator top. I took a step back to better reach what was left. Wham! I was sitting on the dishwasher door and bottom rack. Colorful metaphors ensued. I just knew the appliance would need to be replaced.
Shifting my weight to stand and inspect the damage, I noticed a dinner fork was dangling from my left thumb. I pulled out the three embedded tines and headed for the bathroom to slap on a Band Aid©. There was a bright red trail along the way, looking like I had left melted, cherry popsicle drippings instead of bread crumbs to find my way back home.
Washing off the mess, I applied standard First Aid© and after taking a queasy break, I texted my daughter asking her to stop over when she had a chance to make sure I had bandaged it properly. She agreed to come a few hours later since she was currently babysitting her grandchildren.
I needed a shower badly. I could wash my body one-handed but not my messy hair, just dirt, not red stuff. I worked and worked to get a finger protector on my thumb. By the time I finally rolled it down to the thumb’s base, I was again leaking vital fluids. I cut off the original bandage and the protector.
After taking another queasy break, I rebandaged the turduken thumb. This time I added a vinyl glove and headed to the shower. Somehow I cleaned my body, but let me ask you this. Have you ever tried to shampoo and condition with one hand? I lathered here, then there, then another place, hoping all the hair was clean. Rinse and repeat the procedure with the wash-out conditioner. Toweling myself dry with one hand was another interesting experience. Then – how to apply leave-in conditioner? How much hair was actually covered is another good question.
A few hours later my daughter arrived, inspected the turducken thumb and drove to the closest drugstore and bought me some waterproof Band Aids©. She redressed the wound and prepared to leave. I asked her to check my dishwasher for damage because it was making new thunks and clunks. Inspecting the machine she found that a screw was missing. She replaced it and now the dishwasher closes properly with just a click.
© by Sharon Dillon, September 16, 2014
energywriter@cox.net; http://energywriter.me
Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop, Southern Humorists, National Society of Newspaper Columnists, one of 14 stories published in The Book of Mom, booksyoucantrust.com, 20+ years experience writing for several newspapers and magazines.
Laugh your way to peace, love and joy 
Dear Sharon,
I remember that I gave you comments on this one at Jack’s. That’s when we had the philosophy discussion on the applicability of “Turducken” to your bandage. I thought it was ok, can’t recall the alternative I proposed, but otherwise thought it was a good piece, if a little long.
Sincerely,
Jack Lott
It was long, but didn’t know how to tell the story without some background. I’m not sure Turducken fit either, but couldn’t think of another word that fit.
What a story! Learned a new word, turducken, thanks. What one had to do to see a family member:)
Funny comment. Perhaps I can do a story on what I have to do to see a family member.