Shiny red things appear to be my downfall

When I was seven I got a gigantic lollipop and a blue ribbon for being the first kid in my Sunday school class to memorize the Ten Commandments. I’ve had a strong affection for that passage of scripture ever since. Imagine my surprise when I recently found myself in danger of violating the 10th Commandment.

I blame the newspaper.

Now, I’m a fairly content sort of person. I don’t pine for things I can’t afford or don’t really need. In fact, I’ve lived with acrid, orange carpet in my bedroom for 15 years. But when I read a Vocal Point story by Donna Kuhn extolling the virtues of her new red slow cooker, a seed of dissatisfaction sprouted. I began to covet, not my neighbor’s ox or donkey, but her shiny red crockpot.

My slow cooker is white. It’s dingy, stained and battered, but it still works. I’m sure my Scottish ancestors would haunt me if I replaced it just because I wanted a more lively color.

I sighed and hefted an overflowing laundry basket downstairs, and that’s when I had an epiphany. My washer had been dying in bits and pieces for months. Only one knob works, so I kept pliers nearby. The dial setting is also broken. I had to spin it like a roulette wheel and hope it landed on something close to clean. I needed a new washing machine. Why not get a red one?

For most folks, acquiring a washer is as simple as a trip to Home Depot. However, I’m married to a man who loves nothing more than a new project. Installing a washer isn’t enough of a challenge for him. While he agreed a new machine was in order, he had an addendum – he usually does. “Our hot water tank is old and inefficient,” Derek said. “What we need is one of those new tankless hot water heaters.”

When I said yes to the new water heater I didn’t know it would cause me to move back home with my mother and take our four sons with me. My mother didn’t know that either.

Derek broke it to me this way: “You know, honey, if you think you’ll need to use the restroom, wash your hands or shower in the next 24 hours, you might want to stay at your mom’s till we get this thing installed.”

My husband and his father began “Operation Tankless Heater” with the enthusiasm of soldiers going to battle. Filled with optimism and inspired by the huge savings we’d see on our energy bill, they set to work. First they shut off all the water.

Well, they tried to, anyway. Hours after they’d begun, a steady trickle of water dripped from one pesky valve. The main had been turned off, all the pipes emptied; yet water still streamed into a large bucket.

“Where’s it coming from?” they asked each other. Around midnight my husband remembered the icemaker in our refrigerator. At last the leaks stopped.

The next day the intrepid Norwegians brandished propane torches as they attacked pipes and plumbing and bent them into submission.

Leaving the kids at Grandma’s, I drove home to see how work was progressing. The fact that my “Tango Red,” front-loading, energy efficient washing machine sat shrouded in sheets in the driveway wasn’t a good sign. Nor was the banging and clanging I heard from the basement.

“Is it hooked up?” I asked. “Yes,” my father-in-law said, proudly pointing at the hot water heated mounted in the wall. Water steadily dripped from the fixtures beneath it.

“Is it supposed to be so – damp?” I asked. Silently, they both stared at me. I went back to Mom’s.

Finally, late that night our family was reunited. We gathered around the newly installed washing machine. It glittered like Dorothy’s ruby slippers. Reverently, I filled the washer with a load of jeans. “You can wash 17 pairs of jeans in one load,” my husband informed me.

In awed silence my family watched me push the lighted display buttons. We all peered into the glass door as the jeans sloshed back and forth. And then a short time later a soft chime alerted us that the clothes were clean. We trooped downstairs in time to hear the washer trill a happy little tune. That’s right, when the cycle is completed the machine plays a song.

We’re all delighted with the efficient hot water heater. And I’m thrilled with my tango red dream machine. There’s just one problem – my aging white dryer looks incongruous next to it. My sister-in-law has a matching set, and I’ve been eyeing her dryer with longing.

That 10th Commandment gets me every time.