You know, life would be much easier

. . if the hubby would just realize I'm right all the time.

It's time to tell the story of our dryer.

When we lived in Texas, our dryer was fine. FINE. It dried clothes in one cycle, and everything was great. Then we moved here. And the dryer? Not so fine any more. From the first time we used it, it sucked. It took two or three cycles to get a load dry. We tried to figure out why. The dryer was heating and everything, it was just acting like the wimpiest dryer there ever was. The hubby swore he had checked the vent that goes outside, so it had to be a problem with the dryer itself. It got bad enough that laundry really piled up, and usually only the clothes that were most important would get washed. We couldn't line dry all the time, and taking three cycles to dry meant not fun things for our electricity bill. So some clothes had just been hidden away, waiting for the day for us to get our act together.

Every month or so, me and the hubby would have the same conversation, where I would say it can't be the dryer, because the dryer had been working FINE, and the hubby swearing that it had to be the dryer, because there couldn't be any other explanation. A few months ago, we opened up the dryer, and the bottom was completely full of lint. Well hello fire hazard! It was hypothesized that maybe the lint had been building up for a long time, and that's what was causing the problem. We completely vacuumed it out, put the dryer door back on, and crossed our fingers. Put a load in, let it go through a cycle, opened the door, and. . . .wet clothes.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. (for those keeping track, we've been here for a year and a half. Yes, eighteen wonderful months of this.) Once again, we have the same conversation. "It can't be the dryer, the dryer was FINE!" "It has to be the dryer, there isn't any other explanation."

We opened up the bottom of the dryer again, and once again, lint city. The hubby went about cleaning it up and finally started talking about getting a new dryer. While the completely Stepford wife in me was like "YUSS!!!" (and even looked at some fancy HE dryers that were on clearance) the practical side of me went "Let's see if we can fix it."

We decided that maybe the seals were bad, which *could* cause the lint in the bottom, and the weak drying. I went to Lowe's, and found some new foam that would work as a replacement, and the hubby went about "fixing" the dryer. Yes, I put it in quotes for a reason. Some time after replacing the seals, the hubby decided to humor me one more time and check the vent leading outside.

Side story-when we moved in to the house, it had been vacant for a long time. The owners had shoved some blue shop towels in the vent opening in the house to keep animals from coming in, which the hubby removed. Raise your hand if you can see where this is going!

Anyways, I am sitting on the computer, waiting. The hubby comes in from outside with a cheesy grin on his face. "I fixed the dryer!"

And, he HAD. Turns out, there were *more* blue shop towels shoved in the vent from the outside. As the hubby gloated and even sang a song at one point about fixing the dryer, I sat relieved. Then the reality of the whole situation dawned on him.

I. WAS. RIGHT.

Our dryer is perfectly fine, like I have been saying for the past eighteen dang months. It dries like a breeze now, just like it did in Texas.

Hubby-since I know you're out there, reading this: I love you but, I told you so. Nanny-nanny-poo-poo.

(There, it's out of my system. Almost.)